


Fucked-Up Situation

by sanity_not_in_tact



Category: Wanted (2008), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, C-PTSD, Crossover, Dark, Don't worry there's no sibling rape, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, PTSD, Rape, Triggers, Twins, but not really viewed as a positive thing, i do actual research guys i don't just jump straight in, might make it explicit if you guys ask for that kind of content, my mind goes dark places and this is where i let it out, please don't read if you have triggers, sad siblings who don't know what the fuck they're doing, this fic will be very long if you guys like it enough, which is pretty comic-cannon really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanity_not_in_tact/pseuds/sanity_not_in_tact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of pain basically but there's some funny dialogue and a bit of cuddly/comfort stuff.</p><p>Set in x-men universe but with the addition of a twin brother (Wesley Gibson from 'Wanted')</p><p>note yr2016/m09/d15: this fic is controversial and i acknowledge that, but since it is now discontinued (at least, i think it is), i would like to say that i never got around to making my point. the moral of the story is the two boys coming out of this okay, and eventually developing natural brotherly feelings for each other, away with anything sexual – this was meant to highlight the nature of incest and how it depends greatly on circumstance and abuse can be a huge factor. once marko is out of the picture, they were meant to heal over time and lose any perverse feelings for each other while maintaining brotherly love for each other. i may continue this but the ship and fandoms aren't well known so it isn't really worth my time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'What If?'

**Author's Note:**

> ATTENTION: for those of you who are interested, here's a screen shot of my notes for writing this fic and research etc on my tumblr blog: http://gangster-whovian.tumblr.com/post/119653637900/hey-guys-this-is-a-screen-shot-of-my-notes-that
> 
> don't feel scared to follow me haha (hint hint) and if you have any questions just comment on the post. i'll make this a series and update my notes with each new chapter so y'all have something to look at while i'm focusing on my studies. love ya.
> 
> ps. if you're writing something where characters experience things that you've never experienced yourself it's really best if you do research on what the sort of emotional/mental reactions might be. it's really easy to find articles etc. online (even incest) so if you're going to write about it, learn about it first.

 

They knew they shouldn't do it. Of course they did, but it didn't make any difference. It did once, but they soon discovered that they'd be better off not thinking about it.

There's no telling exactly when it started, they lived so close for longer than either of their memories could confirm. That being said, there were a select few moments that changed the connection between the two. The first being when Charles was seven years old, and he came to realise that he had the ability to read minds. Even at such a young age, he recognised that reading someone's thoughts, especially if they're close to you, was probably a little invasive so, of course, the first person he asked to share his gift with was Wesley. At first, Wesley thought this was merely one of Charles' games, however confusing it may have been. He would never forget the shock, amazement, confusion and fear that he felt when Charles' voice spoke clearly in his head, without his mouth ever moving. Once he'd recovered from the shock, his enthusiasm sparked, and he wanted nothing more than for Charles to explore his abilities through him. For the next few years, Charles learned not only how to read and speak to minds, but how to control them (Wesley didn't like it when he did that) and he taught Wesley how to build a shield from his mind, call out to him with his mental voice, share dreams, share thoughts, emotions, sensations, to the point where they could meld their minds so closely together that they almost thought as one. The two of them shared almost every memorable experience together, almost as one person from two perspectives. Being twins, they'd always shared a profound bond, as one would only expect, but since Charles learned to use his powers, and Wesley learned how to use them with him, what connection that was already between them grew beyond what either of them had ever imagined.

 

 

 

They were just thirteen years old. The two were lying in a shared bed, as they had done for as long as the two could remember. Charles had two fingers pressed gently to his brother's temple, and Wesley strengthened the connection by mirroring the position. The picture they made would have been rather amusing, the two of them lying opposite, perfectly in the centre of the vast bed, mirroring their every expressions perfectly.

Charles was pouring his mind into Wesley's, letting it flow like quicksilver through his memories of the day, through his emotions and sensations, past and present, and gradually releasing all the tension from Wesley's mind and body. Wesley returned the favour, more than used to navigating Charles' open mind, bare for him like he'd promised never to be for anybody else.

It was a simple thought, simply that he loved the other more than anybody else in the world. Neither of them really knew who the thought came from, but it didn't really matter, since the two of them were thinking in perfect synchronisation at the time. The other agreed, and then a thought that, if they'd ever come across it in the past, had been buried unimaginably deep beneath denial. _  
What if?_ What if this was more than it should be? What if the love they felt was no longer purely brotherly?

The two of them jumped at the sudden assault, breaking apart. Both of their eyes snapped open, and they made eye contact, neither of them needing telepathy to know what the other was thinking.

“Charles?”

“Wesley.”

“What was that?”

“I... have an unsettling hunch.”

“What should we-”

“Ignore it. It'll be hard, but we have to ignore it.”

“Won't that be practically impossible?”

“Yes.”

“Memory erasure?”

“I can't do that to myself yet, I don't know how.”

“I know. Can't you try?”

“If I don't succeed, you'll forget but I'll remember. I'd be able to keep it from you but-”

“Then do it.”

Charles looked reluctant. “I don't know if it's safe, Wesley. I could end up erasing your whole life.”

“Charles, listen to me. We can't let this happen. Please try.”

Charles looked terrified. “Wes, I share everything with you. I don't know if I can bring myself to-”

“Don't think about it.” He put his hand to Charles' temple. “Do it.”

Charles' throat tightened, he looked into Wesley's eyes. _'I'm so sorry.'_

He didn't give him the time to reply, before he reached out and broke one of the few real promises he'd ever made, erasing the last five minutes from Wesley's mind. He gathered every second from the five minutes that Wesley would never remember, and buried them so deep that he thought that this might actually work. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and let Wesley go.

Wesley blinked. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Why'd you stop?”

It took a moment for Charles to realise that Wesley wasn't even aware that he'd done anything, and that the last five minutes had never happened for him “I... never mind. I'm okay.”

Wesley looked somewhat confused.

“D'you think we should go to sleep now? It's past midnight.”

“Yeah maybe. Actually, I feel a bit off. Could you knock me out?”

Normally the two would argue about it, but tonight Charles was more than willing to comply before Wesley realised something was wrong. He touched his fingertips to his brother's mind. _Sleep._

He watched his brother's eyes slide closed, and then rolled over to lie awake for the rest of the night.

 

 

 

 

245


	2. 'You Told Me To'

Charles managed to keep the memories of that night locked away for longer than he thought possible. It wasn't until they were both fourteen and nine months that he slipped. It was about nine o'clock at night, and the two were sat out the back on the bench by the water fountain (later to be knocked down.) They were facing each other, fiddling with their sleeves and fussing with their hair while they cooled off in the soft breeze. Wesley looked up at Charles from where he'd been playing with a shoelace, gave him a little smile and, without thinking about it, lifted his hand to cup Charles' jaw, running his thumb along his bottom lip. Charles pulled away, breaking eye contact, and squirmed in his seat. “Wes, watch it.”

“Sorry, I-” Wesley looked so confused, glancing down at his hand and then frowning and looking back up at Charles.

Charles swallowed and gave Wesley a weak smile “This has happened before.”

“... I'm sorry?”

“You can't... You need to watch that you don't try anything.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“You don't remember it. Please don't be angry. You told me to erase it. I wouldn't be telling you this, I just... don't know if I can keep it from you any longer.”

“Well, for god sake, Charles, give it back!”

“I can only give you my perspective.”

“Go on.”

Charles huffed. “You sure?”

“Yes! I'm sure.” He reached up and slid his hand behind Charles' neck, griping the hair there to hold him in place, and put his fingers to his temple, forcing himself against Charles' shield.

_'Let me in. Dammit, Charles, you promised you'd never do it.'_

_'I know, you made me-'_

_'I'll decide that.'_

Charles sighed and unlocked the memories. He didn't know if the release relieved or added to the stress that had accumulated over the past year. For the first time since he was seven, he didn't know exactly how to react.

Wesley's eyes widened. ' _Charles, how do I know these memories aren't fake?'_

 _'Do they seem fake to you? I'd_ never _erase your memories unless you wanted me to, you know that.'_

Wesley relaxed. ' _Sorry, Charlie, of course you wouldn't.'_

_'So? What should we do?'_

Charles looked scared.

_'Nobody can know.'_

Charles shook his head so hard they briefly lost contact.

_'Not even Raven.' Wesley added._

Charles looked up at that.

_'I don't like it, either. Try to ignore it, you seem to have become quite the expert. And...'_

_'And?' Charles caught the original thought before Wesley could put it into words._ ' _No! Wesley, I couldn't stand it, neither of us could stand it.'_

 _'I'm sorry, Charles, but we both know I'm right.'_ He pursed his lips and looked away. He couldn't bare to see the disappointment in Charles' eyes as he did what he was so well trained to do, and slowly built up all the barriers to his mind, nearly breaking the skin biting his lip as Charles banged on the barrier like a child banging on the inside of a locked bedroom door, screaming.

Charles' breath caught. “No.” His voice was barely a whisper. “W-Wes?”

“I'm sorry, Charles.” He reached out to cup Charles' cheek briefly, then flinched away, realising what he was doing, and slid further along the seat. He looked down at his feet and whispered “At least a foot stays between us. No contact unless necessary. They'll blame it on growing up, but we have to pretend to be comfortable around each other. _Don't_ slip up.” He rose from the bench, glancing at Charles but quickly looking away when he caught sight of his expression. “I'm going to go and subtly ask father for my own room,” He huffed. “it's not like there's not enough space.”

He didn't look back, couldn't bring himself to look Charles in the eye.

 

 

271

274


	3. 'Did You Mean It?'

 

They tried, they really did. They lasted another year, both of them going completely insane. They felt more isolated than ever in their lives, and Charles was angry and hurt. The boys grew further and further apart, but as they did, their need to be back together only got stronger and stronger. Raven was, at first, completely bewildered. She couldn't understand what any of it meant.  
Pain, longing, reserve, fear, shame, hurt, anger, and frustration coloured the brief glances that they allowed between the two of them. A whole year, and she couldn't understand it. Charles stayed locked up in his room all day, doing god knows what. She will always remember the horrible tight feeling she felt in her chest as she came to realised the scent of liquor appeared and intensified wherever Wesley went. Charles, being the twin that the boys' step-father picked on, was left to deal with the bruises, mental and physical, all on his own, since Wesley was the only person he ever permitted to help him. She was nearly at the point of tearing her bright vermillion hair out before she finally figured out what was going on.

The thing about libraries, is that there are so many places you can hide and spy on people. One night, when the boys had kept a worrying distance between each other for almost a year, she caught Charles creeping around the bookshelves, quietly keeping enough distance between him and his brother so that he wouldn't be detected. She stopped in her tracks and watched as he slowly brought his hand to his temple, closing his eyes. He screwed his face up in concentration, and then his eyes snapped open. He glared in Wesley's direction, swallowing around the lump of frustration in his throat.

Just then, Wesley tripped over a pile of books and nearly knocked the bookshelf over trying to stop himself slipping to the floor. “Shit!” He stage-whispered as he grabbed his sore toe.

Charles had to clamp his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing, and drew further back behind the shelf so he wouldn't be seen. He turned his back on Wesley, leaning against the shelf and looking up to face Raven. She just managed to catch the look of adoration and amusement on his face before his smile died and his eyes widened as he caught sight of her. He quickly put his fingers to his lips, silencing her before she had the chance to speak up.

She would have told Wesley he was there just to set the two of them off, if she hadn't caught the most dire expression she'd ever seen on Charles' face.

Wesley turned around to collect the books strewn across the floor. His gaze fell on Raven.

“Raven! What are you doing here?”

She glanced nervously at Charles. He shook his head. ' _Don't draw attention to me.'_ He projected

“Uh...” Raven trailed off.

_'Raven!'_

“I was just... wanted to talk to you about something.” Her warm smile came naturally as a plan formed in her mind.

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “What about?” He started walking towards her.

She quickly moved to meet in the middle, so he wouldn't spot Charles behind the shelves, moving just a little to fast.

 _Now's as good a time as ever._ She thought, and took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about Charles.”

_'What! Raven, what are you doing?'_

_'Shut up and listen, you might learn something.'_

Wesley's smile faltered. “Uh, yeah? What about him?”

“Just wondering what the hell's up with you two lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've grown so... distant.”

Wesley's strained laugh was a few tones higher than usual. “We just grew up, Raven, that's all.”

“Huh.” Raven feigned looking thoughtful. “I just thought, you know, maybe you should talk to him a little more, I think he needs you.”

“Why do you say that?” Wesley's expression turned serious.

“Uh...” _Shit._

_'Yeah, 'shit' is about right.' Charles sounded angry._

“No reason... just that you two were always so close, and, I mean, surely, you know, nothing's really changed, there...”

Wesley's frown softened. “You worry too much, Raven.”

“I don't think so, Wes, I don't know what's happened between you two-”

Wes held up his hand, flinging his jacket off the back of one of the bench-chairs. “I don't want to talk about this.” Poor Charles had to hold his breath as Wesley stormed past him and out the double oak doors.

Raven just stood there staring at the doorway Wesley had just disappeared through, a confused and worried frown on her face.

Charles let out a breath he'd been holding for way too long, and crawled out from his hiding place behind the shelves. He threw Raven an angry glare before leaving a good thirty seconds behind Wesley, but didn't say anything.

Raven had a plan she was really going to regret playing through.

 

 

 

It was easier to do than Raven was hoping, in more ways than one. Firstly, it was surprisingly easy to fool Wesley. Secondly, the ease with which she broke a promise she'd made to Charles – which she held so close to her heart – was frankly t _errifying._ She hated this. She hated breaking a promise, but what else was she meant to do? She sighed deeply and glared at her reflection – Charles' reflection – in the mirror. She flattened down every crease in her shirt, just as Charles would, ran her hands through her – _his_ – hair, just as Charles would. She cleared his throat and mastered that ridiculously guarded exterior that he nearly always _used_ to hide any scrap of maturity behind. That's another thing she'd noticed – he didn't put on that façade as much anymore, almost like he was to pre-occupied to notice or do anything about it.

She looked into the eyes staring back at her in the mirror. If she was going to pull this off, she'd have to be convincing.

“Wesley, I want to talk.” She said to his reflection. She huffed. She still sounded American, and that's totally not something Charles would say. She closed his eyes, and pictured his accent, his mannerism – the social exterior he put up for show, much like the blond hair and fair skin that she put up to protect herself.

 

 

 

She straightened her back and walked down to the dining table, which Wesley chose to do his homework on rather than the dozens of desks in the dozens of offices around the mansion. Confident that Charles was in the bath, and probably wouldn't be out soon, and definitely wouldn't read her mind – she winced when she remembered the promise she was breaking – she deliberately stepped around the corner and leaned against the archway leading from the kitchen to the dining room, just like Charles would.

She cleared his throat.

Wesley looked up, startled. His eyes widened as he saw who it was. Raven noticed him swallowing exaggeratedly, like the sight of him made him uncomfortable for some reason, although she couldn't figure out why.

“Charles. What are you doing here?” He looked down at his books as he said it, pretending to look busy. “What do you want?”

“Do I have to have a reason to be here?”

Wesley sighed. “I suppose not.”

Raven racked her brains. _How am I gonna make this sound like I know what I'm talking about? Okay, how long has this been going? Ten months? Eleven?_ Raven had a hunch that maybe Wesley was blocking Charles, but she was also aware that the two of them were very good at hiding psychic interaction from Marko and the general public. And Cain. So maybe she just didn't see it?

“How long's it been? Eleven months?” She almost smiled at how not-suspicious that sounded.

“Nearly twelve.”

 _Now what, idiot._ She thought for a bit, and groaned internally when she came up with it. _Charles is gonna cut me._

“I miss you.” She made it sound all hesitant and shy.

Wesley stopped, but didn't look up from his work. “Don't make this harder, Charles.”

_What the hell does that mean? Make what harder?_

Fuck all. She had no clue what she was doing but she seemed to be on the right track. “I'm sorry, I just...” _Oh, fuck, Charles was going to_ kill _her._ “Don't know what to do. I need you, Wes.” She winced a how un-Charles-like that sounded.

Wesley looked up at that. He looked furious. “You don't think I find this hard, too? What else are we meant to do, Charles? I won't have you wipe my memories again. Why couldn't you just keep it to yourself like we planned it!?”

_What the actual fuck is he talking about????_

Raven hesitated a moment too long, but, to her surprise, Wesley didn't notice the delay. “I can't _live_ like this, Wes. I can't stand it.”

Wesley forced a laugh. “Clearly.”

“You're one to talk! I smell it on you, you know, the liqueur.”

Wesley sighed and his voice dropped. “What else am I supposed to do? Blaming this crap on you and drinking it away is about all I can do about it. I know we started this together but I just... It's wrong, Charles. We both know it. Not only that, I don't think we'd be able to stop ourselves if we aren't careful, and what do you think would happen if we got caught? I'm protected, being the favourite son, but if _he_ found us, I can say in all seriousness that he might very well kill you.”

_Could they be...? Is it possible? Surely not.... Only one way to find out. Oh, boy. Maybe I should stop now._

There was no point telling herself that, she knew. She was going to have to really wind him up if she wanted to know this for sure. But what about Charles...

“But would it really be so bad? We'll be careful, we won't get caught-”

“Stop talking.” He was angry again. A small whine left his throat as he cleared it, like he was trying not to cry out. Raven wanted to run away at the vulnerable look on his face, she'd never seen him look like that before. “Charles, these past few months, even the distance between us hasn't hasn't... hasn't-” He choked on the words and had to clear his throat to continue. “Even the distance hasn't stopped it. I still want you, Charles. I watch you everywhere. When you can't see me, I'm watching. Before this I just took you for granted. You were a part of me, and that was that. No complications. But now I can't have you anymore I'm seeing what I've lost, and it kills me. I used to be able to laugh freely at the clumsy mistakes you made, I used to be able to sit across from you while we studied, and watch... and watch everything you did, and I didn't have to think twice. I would give anything to have that back, but how can you not think that this is wrong? We've gone too far, and I can't even _look_ at you without- without...” He trailed off.

This next line was either going to send him into an outraged fit of anger, or make him collapse in a puddle on the floor at this rate, but Raven didn't know what else to do.

“Wesley... Which do you think is worse? This? This avoidance, the drinking, the insanity, and the denial, or the alternative?”

Wesley looked up slowly. “Who the _fuck_ do you think you're kidding, Charles?! I thought we agreed on this. I thought you understood! This is WRONG! I couldn't live with myself if I did this to you. I don't _want_ to turn you into a... a _pervert,_ like me.”

“Wes, we both know I already feel the same.” That was a gamble, but she guessed that they were close enough that pretty much anything one of them was feeling, the other would return that feeling.

He laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. “You have _no clue_ how bad it is in here.” He tapped his head. “For once in your life, you don't know a single thing I'm thinking. It would shock you, you know. Maybe I _should_ show you. Maybe you need to see just how far this has come.” the smile he threw at Raven – at Charles – was almost _evil._ He closed his eyes and frowned, and Raven figured out what he was doing just a little too late.

Wesley felt no intrusion, no other prying mind forcing its way into his. He looked up. Raven panicked, reverting to her default poker-face.

“Well? What are you waiting for? It's what you've been wanting, isn't it? I've let my guard down.” A frown started to form as the seconds ticked by. “Don't you want to see? Are you too scared? Am I that much of a stranger to you now that you can't bring yourself to look into my mind?”

“No... I just...” Raven started to fidget.

Wesley's expression turned cold. “Fine, it's better that way, really.” The chair scraped as he kicked it out from against his ankles. He walked around the table, placing his hand on it for support. His expression was full of rage and cold hurt and fear and rejection. He started to move toward the archway. Raven thought he was going to throw a punch, but he just glared at her and walked straight past.

She sent a desperate prayer to the heavens above that she'd live to see tomorrow, and transformed, not into her normal, blond-haired self, but into her true form. If she had to do this, she needed to be as un-threatening as possible, and that meant exposing herself.

She kept Charles' vocal chords, so that she wouldn't scare him away before she got to say anything.

 _God help me, I'm so screwed._ ”Wes, Wait.”

He stopped, but didn't turn around immediately, just as she had hoped. “I'm so sorry, but I've broken a promise to you.” She hated having to keep the vocal chords to say this, but she'd never get the words out if she didn't.

“What promise? The one about staying away from me, or were you more sneaky than usual invading my mind this time?”

“I... Promised you I'd never take the form of you or Charles.” She watched him stiffen. The atmosphere turned stagnant as his breathing stopped. Finally, she changed her vocal chords. “I'm so sorry.” Wesley slowly started to turn to face her. “I... now regret it more than anything I've ever done.” Raven could just see his silhouette in the dim light of the corridor.

His voice was surprisingly calm, when he spoke. “Did you mean what you said?”

“What about?”

“About me and Charles being... Better than the alternative.”

“Every word. You don't know how bad he is, Wes-”

“You've lost the right to call me that.” the way he said it almost sounded kind, sweet. Almost. And that made it so much scarier. “If you tell Charles about this conversation, I won't forgive you. If Marko finds out because of you I won't even be able to look at you.” His voice broke more than once, but it was clear that he wasn't kidding.

“What happened to you, Wesley?

“I grew up.”

“No, this in't growing up. This is threatening someone.”

“I don't think you're in a just position to lecture me on moral standards.”

“Wesley, please don't let this continue.” She couldn't help the tears, now, but practice had taught her to keep her voice steady. “It's destroying you-”

“Exactly.”

“Don't. Please.”

“Why?”

“Because, right now, I don't know whether to fear you or pity you, and I don't like either option.”

He turned to face her, snapping the collar of his expensive leather jacket, as is his habit. He gave her a fake smile that, to the idle observer, would appear genuine. “Goodnight, Raven.”

She watched him leave, and then slid down to the floor. She shed no more tears, but she didn't move all night.

 

284

287


	4. 'The Alternative'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: incesty stuff. if that grosses you out then i totally understand
> 
> the incest isn't really viewed as something positive, if that helps. it is explicitly acknowledge by the characters that what they're doing is immoral.
> 
> i do not believe that incest is okay, and i hope that is made clear in my fic (i also believe that what makes a story moral is not its contents but the light in which they are viewed)

 

Charles had had a restless night. That's not to say that they weren't a common occurrence over the past twelve months, but he woke up sprawled on the floor, unsure of how he got there. He sighed and groaned as something cramped in his hip, crawling over to the bed and using it as support to lift himself up. He looked at his reflection. His hair was a mess, his eyes were tired and he looked even paler than usual. He knew Raven would worry, but the best he could do was fix his hair and put on one his best clothes to distract from his face, careful to fix his collar so the marks Marko had left on him the other night weren't visible.

He stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen, about to walk through the archway, and stopped in his tracks at a blue-skinned redhead, sitting in a very naked bundle on the floor looking like she'd fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion. 

Frowning, he carefully stepped around her and put the kettle on. She didn't wake even when it started to boil, so he set out to make her a coffee, and, still, she only stirred once he turned on the steamer.

She groaned, clutching a raging headache where her head had been resting against the arch all night.

Charles padded over, handing her her coffee and sitting across from her by the other end of the archway, crossing his legs and sipping his tea. They sat in silence, which Charles deliberately let linger until he'd nearly finished his tea.

“Why are you here?” He finally asked, keeping his voice low in these delicate hours of the morning.

“Huh?”

“Naked, blue, in my kitchen, formerly asleep.”

“Sorry, do you mind-”

“I Don't, but you'd best be thankful Marko didn't chose to come down to the kitchen at this early hour.”

Her eyes widened. “Is he coming?”

“No. He's fast asleep. You still haven't answered my question.”

“I guess I must have dozed off when I hadn't meant to.”

Charles looked at her carefully. She turned away, appearing uncomfortable having Charles stare so long at her face and form. “What are you hiding?”

“Who says I'm hiding anything? I thought I was hiding rather less than usual, actually.” She vaguely gestured to her naked form.

Charles cleared his throat. “Definitely hiding something.”

She sighed. “Well, you might as well read my mind, anyway. S'not like I didn't earn it.”

“Excuse me?”

She looked up at him now. “You love me, right?”

“Of course. You're like a sister to me.”

“Promise you won't lash out?”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, Charles, I'm about to make you very angry.”

Charles' brow dropped, his expression grave. “I would never hurt you, Raven. You know that.”

“And I would never hurt you, right? Not intentionally, at least.”

Charles frowned, and nodded once, the question in his eyes.

“I-think-I-kinda-may-have-already.” It came out in a rush.

“Calm down, Raven. How?”

She took a deep breath. “I broke my promise.”

He laughed once in confusion “Which one?”

“ _ The  _ promise, Charles.” She watched the realisation dawn on his face. “I'm so sorry.” She didn't trust her voice, so it came out as a whisper.

He growled “What happened?”

“Wh-who says anything happened?”

Charles barked a laugh, making her jump. “If you did what I think you did, nothing good could ever come of it. That's why I made you promise.”

She sucked air between her teeth. “I... I don't know how... I'm... scared.”

“Of?”

“You being angry... and Wes getting angry at me.”

“I'm not missing your choice of words.”

“Huh?”

“You know I'll be angry, but you said Wes would be angry  _ at you. _ ”

“I... didn't notice that myself.”

“Sometimes it's the things we do without realising it that speak the truth of our minds.”

She sniffled “I guess that's accurate, in this case.”

“What does that mean? Did he threaten you?”

She looked up at that “How can you speak like that of your own  _ brother? _ ”

“I know Wesley more than I know myself. He has a protective personality.”

She dropped the scowl “Charles, I _know_.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I  _ know.  _ About  _ it,  _ the thing that's separated you two.”

He looked disbelieving. Scratch that, he looked like he didn't  _ want _ to believe her. His brow creased “Who's form did you take, exactly?”

She hesitated. “Yours.”

Charles sighed and put his head in his hands. “Why would he be angry at  _ you _ , then?”

“Because he knows it was me.”

“He could tell?”

“No.”

“You  _ told  _ him?”

“He sort of got... pissed, as you can probably imagine, and he was gonna think it was you and I couldn't let that happen because everything would fall to shit if he tried to fight with you about it and anyway, I couldn't do that to you and it would have literally been the  _ worst  _ way for you to find out and I needed him to know that I'm on your side and-”

“Raven, slow down. It's not me I'm worried about. I'm already done for in this household. It's him I worry about, and now you, because you've gone and done this frankly stupid thing that could turn the whole house into-”

“Charles. I love you, really. I know it's probably hard to believe after what I've done but you have to listen to me. You say you're not worried about yourself? You should be. I know what Mr. Marko does to you already but god knows he could very well throw you out on the  _ streets.  _ Or worse. Wesley's safe. You both know that. No matter what either of you say, he'll always be the victim in Marko's eyes.”

Charles looked at his feet.  _ 'Oh, Raven. What have you done?' _

“I honestly don't know.” She whispered out loud.

_ 'What are we going to do?' _

“We're gonna fix this bullshit between you and your brother. You're gonna stop avoiding each other-”

“Wait. When you say 'bullshit', do you mean-”

“This stupid, childish idea that being miserable is better than being together-”

“You mean, you don't think it's... wrong?”

“Oh.” She sighed and got up, leaving her coffee on the ground and half crawling over to sit directly in front of Charles, mirroring his crossed legs. She lifted a hand to cup his jaw and he flinched away, thinking she was going to hit him. She slowed her movements immediately, and moved in less swiftly, pulling a stray hair back behind his ear. “This is where it gets complicated.” She whispered.

Charles swallowed around a lump in his throat and looked back down at his feet. “I know it's not right. We both do, that's the point-”

“Charles, stop. Look at me.”

He just shook his head and continued to stare at his feet.

“I'm only fourteen. I don't know what's right and wrong in this world, in fact, I've never been so confused about it. But I can tell that  _ this –  _ the way things are now –  _ is  _ wrong. You depend on him, Charles. And, although he has it better than you, he depends on you, too. I don't know for sure, because I'm not the one who can get inside his head, but I'm quite nearly sure that he's doing this to protect you. You want him to stay safe and unharmed? Well he's not safe, and he's not unharmed. Whatever the hell is happening with you two is draining both of you, and I think he's blaming himself for that. So if you want him fixed, go fix him.”

“He'll know that you told me.”

“I can handle him. Please don't worry about me. I can pose as the maid for however long this takes, if I have to.”

“I don't know if I can-”

“Oh, just go and fucking talk to him, already. Oh! But before you go, here.” She placed her hand on the side of his head.  _ 'Hey, Charles. Sorry to show you this. Please don't be angry.' She did the mental equivalent of inviting him in, dragging him over to the memories of last night. Charles flinched away, but soon relaxed.  _ She dropped her hand before he had the Chance to go snooping, and didn't wait to see his reaction before standing up and transforming into blond hair, hazel eyes, pale skin and  _ clothes.  _ She walked away, swinging her hips and flipping her hair, over to the back door leading onto the court yard that had lots of exits so she could escape should Wesley turn murderous.

 

 

 

 

Charles knocked on his door softly, taking lots of deep breaths, he was going to need them. “Wesley?”

“You honestly think I'd fall for it  _ again _ ?”

“It's me this time, I swear.”

“Oh, you swear, do you? Don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't know you're one of the best liars I know.”

He groaned and rested his forehead against the door. “Please, Wesley?”

“Please what?”

“Please stop this. Let me in.”

“Ha. No.”

Charles banged his head against the door again.  _ I'm really going to regret this.  _ And bombarded Wesley's shield with all his strength which, it turns out, was just enough for Wesley to notice he's there, he's so heavily guarded.

“So Raven told you, then.”

“Ah... no.”

“ _ No? _ ”

“No. She, um, seemed a bit off this morning, so I might have looked at her surface thoughts-”

“I can tell when you're bullshitting. Don't bother.”

“Can you please just open the door?”

He sighed with relief as he heard the lock click. Wesley peaked through the crack he allowed. “What do you want?”

Charles took one whiff of the air, and recoiled. “Jesus, Wesley. Just how much have you had?”

“A lot. Mostly wine, but I think I found father's old whiskey, but I don't really remember. I think I puked at some point, but I can't really be sure of that, either. I'm also having a –  _ hic _ – hard time figuring out why I'm telling you all this.”

Charles couldn't help but giggle at his brother for that – even despite the circumstances. “Did you have a bath?”

“I...  _ hic –  _ I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Uh-huh.”

Charles pushed the door fully open with ease, his brother swaying from the impact. “This place is a mess.”

“It's a reflection of my carefree spirits.”

“Your methylated ones, more like.” He held up a bottle.

“Oh, yeah!” Wesley grunted as he landed on the bed. “Forgot about that. Diluted it with coke, mind... I'm pretty sure. Actually I don't really know what happened after, like, ten o'clock but I can't have been stupid enough to drink that stuff  _ straight. _ ”

“It makes you go blind, you know.”

“Yeah. Still can't figure out why I'm telling you all this.”

“Because, twelve months ago, telling me would have come completely naturally, and alcohol has a way of making us forget the things that stop us doing what feels natural. I imagine that's why you drink it in the first place, because you can't honestly like the _taste_ of it.” He scrunched up his nose as he sucked on a finger he'd dipped into the clear liquid.

The spaced-out look left Wesley then, but his eyes still looked a little strained. “Why are you in here?”

“Because I'm sick and tired of hiding from you, because I don't want to have to be  _ careful  _ with you-”

“You know it's best, Charles-”

“Raven doesn't agree-”

“Yeah, well, of course she doesn't-”

“And neither do I. Would you just  _ look  _ at yourself, Wes? You've always been messy, but how old is that banana peel over there? What even  _ is _ that green lump of mould in the corner-"

“So my room isn't tidy-”

“-and you've let yourself go. When was the last time you  _ changed?  _ Looks like you've been wearing that singlet all night and this whole room  _ reeks  _ of alcohol-”

“It's better than-”

“-better than what, Wesley? Stop denying what's clearly right in front of you! You think this is better for me? Do you think it's better for me to have to watch you  _ from a-distance while you tear yourself apart?  _ DON'T  think I can't read you, Wes! And no, of course I can't read your mind through your mental Great Wall of Wesley you're hiding behind, but I can see you clear as anything else when you excuse yourself from the room, clear your throat, and look away. I can  _ feel it every time you  _ put up  _ another  _ FUCKING BARRIER TO KEEP ME OUT. AND THE WORST PART IS? YOU THINK YOU NEED THE DAMN THING TO KEEP ME OUT. LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME YOU THINK I WOULD  _ EVER  _ VIOLATE YOUR PRIVACY LIKE THAT. I  _ DARE  _ YOU. It's true I've never had to think about it before, but all you ever had to do was say the words – even less; just  _ think  _ them – and I'd be out of your head like that shit was made of  _ fire.  _ I. WOULD NEVER. DO THAT. TO YOU! I hate this! I hate watching you, but never touching you. I hate not knowing what you're feeling or how you're coping just behind that thin wall that separates us at night. I  _ miss  _ you. Is that so hard to understand-”

“You think I don't miss you too? Were you always this much of a damn  _ narcissist,  _ Charles? Since when did you become so self-absorbed that you can't even consider how this hurts  _ me?  _ I put up those barriers so I don't  _ give in _ . While you're their feeling sorry for yourself and peering at me around the furniture – don't kid yourself, Charles. of course I noticed you – I was the one trying to keep us fucking  _ sane.  _ I was the one to watch the disappointment drip from your miserable face while I did the only thing I could think of to keep you safe, to stop things from getting worse and to protect you from father 'cause god know's he'd  _ kill  _ you if he found out.” His voice was shaky, the alcohol crashing on him and making him exhausted. He stood up to level with Charles. “I did this for you. It killed me, and I did it for you. Still you find it in you to scream to me about being inconsiderate.” He looked up into Charles' eyes and took a step forward, backing him closer to the closed door. “And the worst part is nothing's changed. I still can't keep my damn eyes off you. You kill me with your  _ disappointment  _ and  _ longing  _ and absolute lack of control over your own composure and you're the only thing I can think about.” He took another step, backing Charles into the door completely. “Everything you do, from that thing with your lips-” he looked down at them now “- when you're thinking really hard, to your hands running through your hair, and I'm wishing those hands belonged to me, that I was the one running my fingers though your hair or...” He hadn't taken his eyes off Charles' lips. “We shouldn't be doing this.”

“I know, Wes.”

Wesley sighed and leaned his forehead against Charles', feeling exhaustion cripple him. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could talk. “I just – I can't  _ control  _ myself when you're being so damn unhelpful.”

Charles let out a little giggle. “Sorry. Wesley, if I'd have known the full story-”

“Yeah, well, I don't think you needed to.”

“I'm sorry?”

“If you hadn't been so focused on trying to sneak cheeky looks at me or break trough my barriers without me noticing you might have been able to put two and two together and actually read the situation like anyone else would.”

Charles groaned and dropped his head on Wesley's shoulder. “Let's just agree that we both fucked up.”

Wesley didn't say anything, just kissed the top of Charles' head and gripped the hair on the back of his neck. Charles whimpered so softly it was barely heard, and pulled Wesley closer, resting his arms around his brother's hips and clasping his hands behind his brother's back.

“What happens now?” Wesley asked.

“I don't know.”

“Shit, Charles. This is so messed up.”

“I think we just need to come to an agreement on which fucked-up situation is the better one.”

Wesley whined like a four-year-old “I don't want to go back to moping.”

Charles chuckled darkly “I'll have to agree with you on that.”

Wesley's voice dropped so low Charles could barely hear it “But, Charles, it's  _ incest. _ ”

He could feel Charles cringe against him “Not if we don't do anything. Not really. And let's not use that word.”

“So the word's worse than the action itself?”

“No, it just makes it official. And scary.”

“Maybe we should just stop caring.”

“That should be a piece of cake.”

“I think we could do it. Maybe.”

Charles pressed against Wesley's barriers. “Not if you don't let me in, Wes.”

Wesley had to process for a minute. “I... don't want you going in there.”

“There are things I don't want you to see as well, but we can't go on like this forever.”

“Why not? Other people do.”

Charles rolled his eyes at him “We're not 'other people'. I thought we'd cleared that up.”

Wesley ran his fingers through Charles' hair, just like he'd wanted to so many times before, and lifted his head up to look at him. “Charles. I've missed you.”

Charles cracked a beautiful smile at that. “ _I_ missed _you_.”

“You're so cute when you smile.” The words came out as barely more than a whisper, like he was afraid to say it.

“Vanity is not a virtue, my friend.”

Wesley laughed out loud, for the first time in ages, turning away so he didn't breathe alcohol into his brother's face. “No, there's something you do that definitely doesn't appear on my face.”

Charles shrugged. “We are different people, after all.”

“Sometimes I think we must be two parts of one person. I've always felt so connected in every way that our opposites have seemed like more of a balance than any difference between us.

“I have a more plausible theory.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fire away, Einstein.”

“I think that humans develop the basis of their personalities during their very first years, and our slightly different experiences as kids happened before I developed my abilities and that's why we're not alike, but can still completely understand one another. Or so I thought. Turns out that's only really the case when our minds are open to each other.”

“God I've missed your voice.”

“My voice is your voice. It's the way I talk that you miss.”

“I miss him.” Charles didn't need telepathy to know he was referring to their deceased father, who had been the one to give Charles pronunciation training in the first place.

“So does mother.” Charles looked down at his feet.

“She seems perfectly happy with the new one.”

“She's not.” Charles whispered.

They were standing too close for this conversation, pressed together and backed against the door. Wesley took a leap of faith and reached behind his waist to prise Charles' hands apart and keep hold of his left, pulling him toward the messy set-up of chairs and a coffee table. He let go as soon as he reached it, sat down and watched as Charles took the seat opposite. “Why?”

“He's... forcing himself on her.”

“But they're married.”

Charles scowled at that “And you think that makes a difference?”

“I... guess not.”

Charles relaxed.

“Would he really do that?”

Charles' eyes turned dark. He suddenly looked very tired. “Apparently.”

Wesley's expression turned worried “How much have you seen. Charles, you shouldn't torture yourself with other people's pain-”

“You know very well it's not something I can control.”

Wesley's features softened “I know, Charles, but please don't allow yourself to get too involved.”

“I can't help it. She's just across the mansion-”

“Don't think about it.”

“You're acting like I'm a little child falling to pieces and you're here to fix me up.”

“What if that's exactly how it is?”

“You can talk. Look at the state of you. How about I clean this place up and you go have a shower and  _ brush  _ your  _ teeth. _ ”

Wesley stared at him, his jaw locking like a stubborn child. 

“Very mature.”

“Fine."

“Good.”

Wesley still didn't move. Charles made and exaggerated gesture to the en-suite and snapped his fingers. Wesley giggled at his brother's display and got up, headed for the bathroom and slammed the door.

“DON'T FORGET TO WASH YOUR-”

“SHUT IT!”

Charles barked a laugh, groaned and then dragged himself up out of his seat to start work on his brother's room.

“IT'S A BLOODY MESS IN HERE, WES.”

“YOU'VE MADE THAT VERY CLEAR, THANKS, CHARLIE.”

“DON'T CALL ME THAT!”

“WELL THEN DON'T MESS UP MY VINEAL COLLECTION THIS TIME.”

“I'M NOT YOUR MAID.”

“YEAH BUT SHE REFUSES TO COME IN HERE SO YOU'RE ALL I'VE GOT.”

“I DON'T KNOW IF YOU NOTICED BUT I THINK YOU'VE GOT YOUR OWN TWO HANDS AT YOUR DISPOSAL.”

“I'M NOT TOUCHING THAT GREEN STUFF.”

“IT'S CALLED MOULD, AND YOU'RE THE REASON IT'S THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE.”

“SO?”

“DO YOU REMEMBER IN BOARDING SCHOOL THE KIDS USED TO CALL US RICH BOYS?”

“YEAH?”

“THAT'S WHY.”

“WHATEVER.”

“VERY MATURE.”

No reply.

“GUESS THAT MEANS I WIN THIS ROUND.”

Still no answer.

Charles clamped his jaw shut and rolled up his sleeves.

_ Right. Jesus Christ, where to begin? _

The room was already mostly clean before Wesley got out of the shower, and Charles was sat on the end of his bed waiting for him. He heard the lock click and yanked his sleeves down, straightening his suit. Wesley stepped through the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Charles cleared his throat and looked away. “Get some clothes on, Wes.”

“Yes, mom.” He did as he was told anyway, grabbing a pair of jeans Charles would never be caught dead in, a t-shirt and his leather jacket, and went back into his bathroom. He re-emerged looking somewhat like his normal self, having brushed his teeth and tended to his hair and face. He sat down on the end of his bed beside Charles, his hair still damp and stuck to his face. 

Charles was staring at his hands, washed raw after cleaning his brother's room, which were fiddling with a wrist-band Raven had made for him when he was ten out of thin strips of leather cut-off. Wesley was staring at him, taking the opportunity to study his brother's face for the first time in what felt like forever. He looked tired, dark circles colouring his eye-sockets, and his lips were more swollen than usual, as if he'd been worrying at them. His hair was longer than usual and his skin looked somehow thinner, more translucent and pale than usual, like he was sick. He let his eyes travel along the lock tucked behind Charles' ear and then down his neck to the edge of his collar. He frowned, catching sight of the edges of a bruise hidden by his shirt. “What's this?” He said, as he pulled his brother's collar down.

“You know very well what it is.” Charles sounded tired and drained.

“What did you do?”

“What did _I_ do? God knows. Even I can't fathom why he does what he does.”

“So he just hit you?”

“That's usually how it goes.”

Wesley huffed “You're not being very helpful.”

“It's not something I vastly enjoy talking about.”

“I know, but if there's anything you can do to modify your behaviour-”

“The only way he'd stop is if I stopped existing.”

“Why does he hate you so much?”

“Because I'm the weak one. Value equates to physical strength and stamina in his eyes, which are two things that you have a lot more of than me. Somehow he thinks that eliminating the weak one is a good way to deal with that.”

“Never thought I'd hate being someone's favourite."

“He does kinda think along the lines of Hitler, doesn't he?”

Wesley reached around Charles' neck, who still hadn't looked up from his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I'm a mess, I know. I haven't been sleeping very well, so I look like a disgrace-”

“Hey, I reek of alcohol and regret and you've always said I have the worst fashion sense of anyone in the history of the United States-”

“That's a very subjective judgement.”

“'Beauty is in the eyes of god', as they say.”

“Well that's just even more hopeless, since he must cringe at the sight of such sinful beings as ourselves.”

“I don't know. God only knows what God thinks, after all.”

“True. I don't see how he could look at us and smile, though.”

“Raven does.”

“Raven is a fourteen-year-old girl. She's hardly one to judge.”

Wesley didn't answer that. Instead he reached out with his free hand, prised Charles' fiddling fingers apart and took hold of his right hand. Charles, having nothing to fiddle with anymore, looked up and stared out the window across the room.

He had to swallow around a lump in his throat before he could speak. “I'm scared.”

“Of?”

“Him.”

“And by 'Him' do you mean God or our step-father?”

Charles snorted. “Both. Although I suppose the latter is a more immediate threat.”

“He won't find out.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We'll be careful. There's no way I'd endanger you like that.”

“There's not much more he could do to me anyway, I suppose.”

“We both know that isn't true.” Charles barely caught his words.

“Trying to be positive.”

“Failing.”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know the half of it, do I?”

“No.”

“Anything serious?”

“Define 'serious'.”

Wesley bit his lip and took a deep, shaky breath. “That bad?”

“I don't know. I try not to think too hard about it.”

“Is he drinking?”

“Have you been paying attention? Of course he's been drinking. He's been coming home every other night too drunk to talk.”

Wesley sighed and prised his fingers from Charles' hand and hair to lean his elbows on his knees and drop his head in his hands “I'm so sorry. I should've realised. I was just so preoccupied trying to keep away from you and not get involved.”

“I'm just coming to realise that this place is actually big enough for something like that to happen without the other residents being aware.”

“He gets so scary when he's drunk.”

“You're telling me.”

“Jesus, Charles. I'm so sorry.”

Charles chuckled like he was brushing it off “It's nothing new.”

“Yes it is. I've always been there.”

“Yeah, well, you were then you weren't. I survived. Stop blaming yourself. You weren't the one to leave the marks.”

“The ones I left on you just aren't visible, is the only difference.”

Charles reached around, slapped him on the back and gripped his side, pulling him in to rest on his shoulder. “Don't beat yourself up about it, it's not healthy.”

“Nothing we do is healthy, it would seem.”

“I eat fruit?”

Wesley laughed “good for you, buddy.”

“I don't really sleep though, so I guess that cancels it out.”

“Coupled with my drinking problem and more-than-frequent panic attacks and we're a mess.”

“At least we don't do drugs?”

Wesley snorted and pointed to his nearly-empty bottle of anxiety suppressors. 

“I'm trying to be positive, here!”

Wesley grinned and reached up to run his thumb along the tired line around Charles' eyes. “Why aren't you sleeping?”

“You keep asking me all these questions you already know the answer to.”

“I'm trying to get you to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Because normally I wouldn't need to persuade you, and that means you must need to.”

“Normally you don't build yourself a mental prison and make me answer your questions out loud, to be heard by anybody who's listening.”

“You know nobody is listening."

“Don't change the subject. Why aren't you letting me in?”

“Because maybe I don't want you in there for once. Does that really baffle you?”

“It wouldn't if you were anybody other than Wesley Xavier. You've never blocked me off like this before, because you've never wanted to. What's changed?”

“It's not a prison.”

“I'm sorry?”

“'Prison' implies that I'm trapped in here” He tapped his temple “But I'm not. Sorry to burst your bubble, Charles, but I'm keeping you out by choice. It's more like a barricade."

“You're still trapped if it's a barricade.”

“I could climb out the window.”

“And what the hell is that a metaphor for?”

“Huh?”

“You're just trying to win the argument by outsmarting me by means of imagined scenarios. The barricade is a metaphor for the shield you've placed around your mind but the window is just how you've put it; a means of running away from the situation – the situation being Charles Xavier sat beside you asking you a question you'd rather avoid with childish imaginings than actually answer.”

Wesley had to process for a second. “What just happened?"

Charles' lips pursed into an attempt at suppressing a victory grin “You just tried to pull me up on a stupid comment I made but I came up with a comeback which you're too slow to understand.”

“Oi!” Wesley knocked his brother's shoulder playfully. “That was rude.”

“You still haven't answered my question.”

“Which one?”

Charles shot him daggers.

“All right, all right. Is it fair to say that I don't know why I won't let you in?”

Charles shook his head “You'll have to do better than that.”

Wesley looked at him and bit his lip, looking like he had something to say but didn't think he should say it.

“What?”

Wesley hesitated, and then went for it “Yeah it's true I've always let you in before, and we've never really had to discuss it before. It was always a kind of unspoken agreement between us.”

“And?”

“You know how you said that mum isn't happy with _him_ because he's forcing himself on her?”

“... yes.”

“And then I said but they're married and you asked me if that mattered?”

Realisation dawned on Charles' face “This isn't like that!”

“Isn't it?”

Charles looked at him and huffed. “I'm not forcing myself on you.”

“In a way, you are.”

“I would never-”

“Yeah, well, watch it. 'cause you're coming real close to emotional manipulation.”

Charles just looked at him, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

“Yeah, thought so. No snarky comebacks? Too bad. I don't want you in my head, Charles, and it shouldn't matter to you why that is.”

“Please don't say that. You know my biggest fear is becoming like _Him_.” He looked back down at his hands and took deep breaths to try to keep himself under control. What had he been thinking? How could he have ever thought it was right to try to force his way into his brother's mind? He'd never really had to think about it before, and the fact that he didn't know why he had to keep his distance in the first place just made it harder to come to terms with what he'd lost. 

Wesley looked over at his brother again. He was chewing on his bottom lip and swallowing frequently, like he was trying not to get emotional. Wesley reached around to cup his jaw and turned his head to face him. “Hey, it's alright. I get it, you miss the connection, and I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you out to be the bad guy, I just need you to understand that I don't want you in there right now. Maybe that will change, but you'll have to give me time.”

Charles nodded “Okay.”

Wesley chuckled “Cheer up. You look like a kicked puppy.”

The corners of Charles' mouth turned up “No, I feel like the puppy-kicker.”

“So I'm a puppy now?”

“Definitely.”

“Can you _imagine_ a puppy in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket?”

Charles giggled “Actually, that's a really funny image.”

“Charles?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you mean it when you said maybe we should just stop caring?” He brushed his thumb over Charles' lips as he said it.

“If it's possible.”

Wesley pulled himself up further on the bed, crossed his legs and faced Charles, indicating for him to do the same. Charles complied with a look of confusion on his face, moving to sit opposite his brother, mirroring his crossed legs. Wesley took hold of Charles' hands, Charles noted that he was shaking, and looked rather nervous.

“Are you okay, Wes?”

“Fine. I just... don't know how to do this.”

Charles could guess at what he meant. He sighed gently to let out all the tension in his shoulders, released his hands from Wesley's and reached up to put them around his brother's neck. He leaned in slightly, as if asking permission. “Is this what you want?” He pulled Wesley's head in closer and rested his forehead against his brother's.

Wesley had to pluck up the courage to answer before he could form the simple word “Y-yes.”

“Are you sure? There's no going back.”

Wesley let out a shaky breath “I'm sure. You?”

Charles leaned in, giving Wesley time to pull away if he wanted. He took a deep breath and touched his lips to his brother's, only just brushing them, giving his brother the chance to make the next move. Wesley swallowed and then moved in closer, pressing into his brother and winding his arms around his waste with a sort of exhausted desperation. Charles responded, his relief so profound a tiny pathetic whimper left his mouth and made him blush. The surge of emotions threatening to burst through Charles' chest made him dizzy, but he was also acutely aware that he couldn't sense anything from his brother, that he was still closed off and unreachable, and that only made him more desperate.

The two were just starting to lose their breath before Charles noticed something wet staining his cheek, and he was sure it wasn't coming from him. He pulled away to see Wesley's eyes red-rimmed and a few tears running down his cheeks. Charles unfurled his arms around Wesley's neck and brushed away his brother's tears. “Wesley.” He whispered around a lump in his throat.

“I'm so confused.” He choked on the words, more tears streaming down his face.

“Me too. We'll figure this out, I promise.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep.” He looked down at his lap as he said it, shaking his head.

“It's not about whether or not I can keep them, rather whether or not I'm willing to do everything in my power to do so.” He lifted his other hand off Wesley's neck to run his fingers through his hair. “I don't know how we'll do this, but I'll figure it out. _We_ will figure it out.”

He dropped his head onto Wesley's shoulder, pulling his arms around his brother's middle. 

“Why us?” Wesley asked, not sure he'd get an answer from his brother.

Charles groaned “Because everything seems to happen to us. I've come to believe the Lord is picking on us.”

“Tormenting us, more like. Or maybe it's just bad luck.”

“Let's try not to think of it that way.”

“How do you suppose we think of it, then?”

“I'd rather not think about it at all, really. I suggest we avoid superstition and merely accept what lies in front of us, for I doubt we'll find any plausible explanation, especially since science says that, because we're so similar genetically, this shouldn't really be possible.”

“We're _identical,_ not just similar.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“And why is that?”

“While it's still possible that you have some gift that we are not yet aware of, you do not truly possess my... unusual talent for reading people, which suggests that there must be _some_ part of the code, however small, that doesn't quite match up.”

Wesley had nothing to say to that, so he simply remained silent, breathing deeply to dispel the last of his sobs.

“We need to talk to Raven.” Charles said into the silence, making his voice ring in Wesley's ears and threaten to bring on another panic attack.

“No.” His voice shook.

“Are you really that worried? She already knows and she's reacted pretty well so far-”

“Not helping.” His breath was coming short, and Charles was beginning to notice. He pulled away and propped Wesley up by gripping his shoulders.

“Wes? Are you okay?”

He managed to shake his head, his vision already swimming “Too... too much.”

Charles swiftly lifted himself of the bed, careful not to jostle his brother, and retrieved his medication from the coffee table. “How many?”

Wesley held up two fingers.

Charles settled back in front of him and helped conduct Wesley's breathing while he unscrewed the cap. He handed them to his brother and supported his neck while he threw his head back, swallowing them dry like he had so many times before.

“Wes? Hear my voice?”

Wesley nodded weakly.

“It's going to be fine. I'll take care of this mess, you don't have to have anything to do with it, if you want. Just take deep breaths. Do you trust me?”

Wesley nodded again, with a bit more confidence this time.

“Then trust me with this, okay? Nothing bad is gonna happen to us, I promise, and I'll sort it out with Raven.”

Charles spent the next few minutes breathing with his brother and reassuring him that it was all under control, even though he knew it wasn't.

Wesley forced his first long breath and nodded again. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Stupid thing to get anxious over.”

Charles chuckled softly “The point of anxiety is that it doesn't always come when we expect it.”

“But what if _he_ sees it?”

“You've never had an attack around him before, and I don't imagine that you ever will. Don't worry about him.”

“The only thing protecting me is the fact that he thinks I'm stronger than you.”

“Humour him, then. You have done with no trouble up until now. He won't touch you, I know that much.”

“You, on the other hand...”

Charles' expression turned hard “ _Him_ I can deal with.”

“I know you don't have any sense of self-preservation, Charles, but you have to understand that you're not the only person who hates to see the bruises.” He reached around and pulled down Charles' collar where he'd seem the mark.

Charles pulled away “I'm going to go down and talk to Raven, now. Will you be alright?”

Wesley nodded “I think so.”

Charles knew he shouldn't just leave his brother there like that, but he just needed a moment to process, and, for the first time in his life, he didn't think it would be a good idea to have his brother present for that.

26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a long chapter to make up for what will probably be a longer wait for the next one. I've written everything in advance but i want as much time on my hands as possible to catch up because i have my final assessments for the trimester due in the next couple of weeks. posting might become less regular for a little while. have patience with me
> 
> comment any requests, and specifically let me know if you want smut next chapter. The segment after this bit has already been written, but there's no smut in-between and if i don't write it in next chapter it's not likely i'll write it in at all. idk what you guys think. let me know in the comments, and if you're worried about ethics i'll let you know at the beginning of the next chapter what to expect. also let me know what light you'd like me to stage it in -- should you want sexual content i need to know how far i can go with that, and whether i should write it in like a positive or negative thing to happen to the boys. I don't want to step on anyone's toes, but i also don't want to hold back on you (i am capable of writing immoral content)
> 
> i may just do what i want regardless of what you guys think, but if i'm to write smut in i might need a little encouragement.
> 
> PS. I have a tumblr account: gangster-whovian. check i out and make suggestions, if you like :)


	5. '"Neurosis and Human Growth: The Struggle Toward Self-Realization"'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter was originally meant to be a lot longer but, since i got no feedback in the last chapter and don't know what the fuck i'm doing writing intimate scenes anyway, i left everything implied. i might make this a series and someday write the full chapter separately but that might only happen if i practice writing that kind of content. 
> 
> enjoy

It was a long time, almost a month, before Wesley could face his own conflicted mind and allow Charles to share it. 

They were strolling through the library, talking aimlessly and savouring a rare moment without Marko, who was out in a 'meeting', which was code for 'strip club'. Charles had a tiny little annoying grin on his face, having finally persuaded Wesley to follow him through the section on human psychology.

“What is with your fascination with this stuff anyway?”

“Mostly I just like laughing at all the nonsense the authors come up with. Psychologists have always approached psychology like one would attempt to understand a mathematical equation – X plus Y equals Z – but the human mind is far too complex for that. Of course, there are often similarities between people in similar circumstances but that means nothing for the individual. A human being is not a bunch of statistics, you can't group them with other people with a similar symptom or mannerism and come to the conclusion that they all have the exact same motives, it just doesn't work like that.”

“So how _does_ it work?”

Charles absent-mindedly stroked the spine of Karen Horney's _Neurosis and Human Growth: The Struggle Toward Self-Realization_ while he thought about his answer. “... It is nearly impossible to say. The experiences that determine a person's humanity and disposition are so many that it would be impossible to list them all and extract a formula, but I can say that there may be many reasons why a person acts the way they do, that could be entirely separate to the next person who performs in the exact same way; and one shared experience could have a different effect on each person who is affected by it. I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about the human mind, it's simply something that a mere mortal such as myself could never truly understand. The key, I think, to understanding an individual's psychology is listening to what they have to say, even if they lie point-blank. The way a person chooses to word their thoughts, and how they censor them, tells us as much about them as their original thoughts would. I could go about my day never uttering a word, but all I'd see is everybody's reactive thoughts – whatever their immediate response to their surroundings is – and I wouldn't learn much about their character at all.” 

Wesley gaped at him “We've shared minds for most of our lives. How is it that I've never considered this?”

“I never really thought about it until recently; I always just took my gift for granted until the one person I could always count on sharing it with blocked me.”

Wesley took Charles' hand “You know that's just me, right? S'not you.”

Charles nodded and dragged his gaze away from the bookshelf to their twined hands. His eyes travelled up Wesley's wrist to his sweater bunched up at the elbow, along his shoulder and to his neck and jaw. Wesley threw him a cheeky smile “Whatcha lookin' at, Charlie?” and Charles followed the little curve of Wesley's smirk while he spoke, an expression that Charles thought only his brother could quite pull off.

“You know, for all your anxiety and paranoia, that smirk of yours makes you look like you're at the top of the world.”

Wesley hummed “That's the idea.”

Even after a month, Charles' hands still shook reaching around Wesley's neck to pull him in for a kiss. 

Wesley pulled away gently “Stop shaking, Charlie, it's okay.”

Charles gripped the short hair behind Wesley's neck harder and slipped his other arm around his brother's waist, pulling him in close and returning his attention to his lips.

Wesley mirrored Charles and pressed himself even closer, dragging his fingers through his brother's hair and sliding his tongue along his lip. He backed Charles into the shelf behind them and rolled his hips, coaxing a soft moan from both of their lips. And then – 

_ 'Charles.' _

Charles gasped and pulled away.

“W-Wes?” His voice was barely a whisper. “I heard that.”

_ 'I know. Charles, I'm letting you in.' _

Charles released a long, relieved sigh as he found that he _could_ hear his brother. All his surface thoughts had been revealed. Charles tried to look deeper and collided with another wall still protecting his memories and emotions.

_ 'Patience. One thing at a time.' _

_ 'Wes.' _

_ 'Uh-huh.' _

_ 'Wesley Allen Xavier...'  _ Charles' lips curled into smile, his blue eyes lighting up and filling with joy.  _'...God, I've missed you.'_

Wesley pressed Charles further back into the bookshelves and rolled his hips again, making Charles' voice hitch, and then dropped his head on Charles' shoulders to kiss along his neck. _'I'm ready, but this will be difficult for me. Can you be patient for me?'_

_'To the best of my abilities.'_ He hummed happily and kissed the Wesley's forehead. “What the hell are we doing?” He whispered out loud, noting Wesley pressing him up against the shelves of the _library_ and rolling his hips up, making their arousal manifest in the both of them in – I repeat – the _middle_ of the _library._

“What we're not supposed to.”

Charles' eyes widened _'you're not seriously considering...'_

_ 'I'm trying not to care. Feels pretty great, actually – the freedom of it all.'  _

_ 'You sure about this?' _

_ 'No.' _

Charles huffed, winding his arms tighter around his brother and bringing him back down to his mouth _'I suppose we can never really be sure of this. But you do realise that this will make it official?'_

Wesley pulled away again, and placed his palms on either side of Charles' head, turning him to look him in the eye. “Charles, do you want this?”

Charles held his brother's gaze and nodded.

“I want you to say the word, Charlie. I'm not gonna make any mistakes.”

Charles gave him an adoring smile “Yes, Wesley, I want this. Do you?”

“Hell yes.” He leant his forehead against Charles' and screwed his eyes shut in concentration. _'Charles?'_

_ 'Wesley.' _

_ 'I think... I think I need help taking down the next barrier.' _

_ 'Which one?' _

_ 'Emotions.' _

_ 'Current or remembered emotions?' _

_ Wesley guided Charles over to the barrier he was talking about. _

_ 'Okay. Firstly, try to actually take note of your current emotions. What are you feeling?' _

_ 'I... Don't know.' _

_ 'Yes, you do. You just don't want to face it. Don't worry, it's natural. Sometimes it's hard to admit what you're feeling.' _

_ '… I don't know... Relief, I suppose?' _

_ 'Good. Now stop hiding it from me. Let that barrier go.' _

_ '… It's hard.' _

_ 'I know. The more you trust that I won't judge or criticise you, the easier this will be.' _

_ 'I just don't understand what's stopping me.' _

_'You're stopping you. You create your own barriers, and now you have to let them go.'_ He dropped his chin on his brother's shoulder and brought him in for a hug _'Your going to have to trust me again if you want to do this. Can you do that?'_

_ 'I think so.' _

_ 'So, what are you feeling?' _

_ 'I'm... desperate?' _

_ 'For what?' _

_ 'You. This. Letting go. Not giving a rat's ass anymore.' _

_ 'Let yourself feel that.' _

_ 'Okay.' _

_ 'Now let go.' _

_ 'I-' _

_ 'You can do it, but you have to really want to.' _

Wesley screwed his eyes closed again, and focused on setting himself free, and something more terrifying: baring himself to Charles for the first time in over a year. He felt a small ache in his head, and then gasped as he finally let go.

Charles smiled up at him and released a small involuntary whine at the impact which made him duck his head and blush. _He reached through the space between them, and returned the favour, spilling all his pent-up energy into his brother's mind._

Wesley hissed “Too much, Charles, you're making my head hurt.”

Charles snapped his head up and placed his palms on either side of Wesley's head, quickly retracting his emotions. Wesley blinked and swayed at the sudden loss of connection “Are you here just to disorientate me, Charlie?”

“I wish it were that simple.” 

 

15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've done a fair bit of research into writing this story and wanted to make a few things very clear in this chapter. in most studies, any reports of incest have been almost always listed as abusive, experimental or the result of a power-play. however, there are some cases where any interaction between siblings has not been abusive in any way and, in some cases, there have been supposedly no regrets among those who experienced it, even as adults. these cases aren't common. I wanted to make it very clear that the relationship between the boys is not some game, or in any way abusive. this was to be made even more clear had this chapter not been cut short, but i've left it pretty certain where the boys stand.


	6. 'How I Met Your Father'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda short and sweet... without the sweet part. I wrote this chapter after a heap of mental preparation and it was very emotionally draining to write, so i kept it short and hoped it would be enough.
> 
> WARNING: rape, pedophilia and other not-so-pleasant things in this chapter. If you have triggers then jesus christ don't read this. it's not explicit, but it's my dark place, so it's pretty awful. yeah... i'd say sorry but i write this stuff as an emotional outlet so this was always going to happen at some point.
> 
> please proceed with caution

 

 

It was a few nights before their seventeenth birthday. Wesley and Sharon were at the door about to go out for dinner, as Sharon insisted on taking the boys out separately first and then celebrating their actual birthday all together. Charles stood in the hall to see them off, his posture stiff and his hands clasped behind his back, next to Marko who was sporting a creepily wide smile, and Raven, who was currently posing as the maid.

“Off you go, Maria.” Mr. Marko said, gesturing vaguely to the exit from the hall. It took Raven a moment to realise he was addressing her, and Charles wanted to smack his forehead at Raven's painfully delayed reaction. Mr. Marko reached across Charles, who had to duck out of the way, and snapped his fingers in front of her face “I said, off you go.”

Raven threw Charles a worried glance and then scurried out the exit.

“Well,” Sharon's high voice made Marko and Charles snap their gaze back to her and Wesley, who was fidgeting with his sleeve and looking like he really didn't want to be there. “I think we'd best be off, since it's nearly eight o'clock and I don't know if I have the energy in me to be up too late-”

“Yes you do.” Mr. Marko cut in.

“I'm sorry, my love?”

“Of course you do. No medical condition could stop you from celebrating your best son turning seventeen, now, could it?” He threw her another stretched smile.

“W-well, honey, I don't know if I have it in me-”

“Yes, you do, and that's final. You'll take him out and be back at ten, are we clear? I have some... business with Charles, if you don't mind.”

Sharon's eyes flickered to Charles and back “A-and what would that be, honey?” she couldn't help the fear colouring her tone, knowing exactly what her husband was capable of.

“Oh, just a little birthday surprise.” The phrase sounded so wrong coming from his step-father's lips that Charles couldn't help a shiver running up his spine. Wesley's gaze flickered over to meet Charles for and instant, and Charles had to look away at the fear he saw in his brother's eyes.

Sharon seemed to recognise that she'd be best not to argue further. “Come on, then, Wes. Let's go get dinner.” She pulled him around and dragged him out the door, closing the double oaks behind her. 

As soon as the lock clicked, Charles' posture stiffened. 

“So. I'd like you to follow me now, boy. I have much to discuss with you.” Any pretence of cheeriness had left Mr. Marko's face.

“Actually, sir, I have to-” He was cut short by a violent strike across his jaw.

“I've taught you not to talk back. You should know better. I'll try this again; follow me.” He started walking towards the main lounge.

“Yes, sir.” Charles' voice was so small he was barely heard, but he knew not to push his luck, and followed his step-father to sit in the lounge Marko had gestured to.

“It's not often your mother leaves the house, is it, boy?”

“No.”

“No _sir._ ”

“Sorry, sir.”

“In fact, I've been waiting for the opportunity for some time now.”

“The opportunity for what, sir?”

“Don't ask questions.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Your mother, well, I don't believe she'd approve of what I'll keep you here for, tonight.”

Charles could feel Raven getting restless where she had her ear pressed against the door. “My mother doesn't approve of much you have to say or do to me, sir.

“Your snark is not appreciated, Charles. Watch it doesn't add to the list of things you ought to pay for.”

Charles clenched his jaw shut and threw him a scowl.

“What is that look?”

“So I'm to 'pay' for simply looking at you now, sir?”

“You don't normally behave like this.”

“That's because mother is normally in the house, and I wouldn't wish to turn your violent tendencies away from myself.”

Marko laughed “You _do_ have a tongue on you, don't you, boy?”

“I'm curious – will you continue to call me 'boy' once I turn seventeen or is it just a name you enjoy throwing at me whatever age I may reach?”

“And I'd like to know how you think this conversation will help you walk away from this without a nasty scar.”

“I don't.”

“You're on dangerous waters.”

“I know.”

Marko paused and searched Charles over, his eyes raking painfully slow from Charles' feet up to his hair. He folded his hands together and rested them in his lap. “Your father was a very attractive man.”

“So they keep telling me.”

“You've inherited most of his genes, along with your brother, but I'm afraid _you_ have the weakness of your mother.”

“That would be impossible, sir. Me and Wesley are genetically identical in every way, meaning that any weakness I've inherited from mother, he has inherited as well. It is quite common for one twin to be weaker than the other – the _runt,_ as you like to call it” He frowned, as though his own words repulsed him “but that usually proceeds from a difficult birth or a significant lack of nutrients supplied from the mother during the carriage. That coupled with the fact that mother's illness is not genetic, so she could not have passed it down to us; and, of course, the fact that the various injuries you've left on me contribute greatly to any weakness you seem to think I should 'pay' for in the first place.

Marko didn't interrupt, like he normally would have. He just continued to study Charles' posture and expression, the polish on his shoes, anything but his eyes, as though he wasn't bothering to listen. “Have I ever told you how I met your father?”

“No, sir.”

“I met him in a business meeting. We were discussing a contract to share the profit his company was earning him, in exchange for the services of myself and my men. Your mother was well at the time, a very pretty thing. He took her to the meeting with him, but she didn't speak a word. Your father was very smartly dressed, and outdid your mother by miles. God knows how much he must have spent on something as detailed as the gel in his hair. Only now that I own everything that he once did do I realise just the extent of the care he put into his appearance, and it was not in vain – he was a very beautiful man. Just like you, Charles. You, with your suits and ties and polished exterior, have turned out almost annoyingly like your father.”

“And?”

“And I have unfinished business with him.” He stood up and walked around the coffee table between them to crouch in front of Charles, as though he was talking to a small child.

“Business?” Charles was beginning to feel uneasy, but he was careful to keep up the unaffected exterior, holding his chin up and looking down at his step-father as though he held the control in this situation.

“I was always very jealous of your father, and of your mother. I wanted many things from them both. I don't have to be jealous anymore. I have his grand estate, his money, his power and his wife... I live the life that he once did, but I still don't have _him._ ”

“Sir?” Charles – miraculously – still managed to keep control over his voice. Raven was getting really worked up now, and was seriously considering walking in.

Marko reached his hand up towards Charles face, and Charles flinched away, expecting to get hit. He knew what was coming as soon as his step-father's hand landed on his jaw – gently, without violence.

“Sir. Please think about this-” He winced when his voice broke, and swallowed discretely. “Think what _she_ would want.”

“Your mother doesn't love me anymore. I thought you knew that.” He sounded almost delirious, the alcohol making him sound much younger than he was. Marko stood and placed his knee on the couch next to Charles, resting his free-hand on the headrest above Charles shoulder, and breathed in his face “She doesn't want me.” 

Charles could smell the alcohol, and could detect Raven deciding on walking in. He grit his teeth and struggled to latch onto her mind, effectively freezing her in place just before her hand reached the door knob. _'Raven, I'm sorry, but I can't let him hurt you, too. I'll give you the choice to stay there, but I hope for the sake of my dignity that you'll choose to leave.'_

_ 'I'm not going anywhere.' She growled, projecting a wave of anger and worry in Charles' direction. _

Charles severed the connection, still holding her in place, and bit his lip to stop himself from protesting as Marko slipped his knee between Charles' legs, leaning close and whispering in his ear “I can't have him, but I guess this is the next best thing.”

“I could stop you.”

“Remember what happened to mummy last time you did that?”

Charles swallowed and turned his head away, taking a shaky gulp of fresh air “I could wipe your memory.”

“Your mother would suspect if I had no memory of this evening, wouldn't she?”

Charles panicked. He was right. There was nothing he could do. 

_ 'Raven, there's still time to leave if you want – I'm not going to force this on you, but I cannot endanger you or mother.' _

_ 'I'm not leaving you here on your own.' _

_ 'I'd rather you didn't have to see this.' _

_ 'I'm not leaving, Charles!' _

Marko slipped his arm around Charles' neck.

_ 'This is your last chance.' _

He lifted Charles off the backing of the lounge, swung his legs up onto the seat, and dropped Charles to lie across the length of it, his head resting on the arm.

_ 'I'm. Not. Leaving.' _

Charles bit back a whine of frustration and severed the connection again. He watched in slow motion, his heart-beat ringing in his ears, as Marko settled over him, propped up on his hands and knees. “So. What'll it be? Will you do as I ask, or put your family in danger?”

Charles didn't want Raven to hear this. He grit his teeth, placed his hand on his step-father's chest and wound his other around his neck, pulling him down to meet his lips. He let out a slow, shaky breath as Marko moved against him, hopefully forgetting the question all-together. Charles swallowed the bile in his throat, closed his eyes and moved against Marko's knee.

Marko groaned and Charles scrunched his eyes shut, knowing Raven would have heard that. His step-father wound his fingers in Charles' hair and his knees buckled so he was lying directly along Charles' body, rutting up against his leg like a feral animal. 

Charles had never wished his mother hadn't accepted Marko's hand more than he did now, as the man propped his elbow next to Charles' head and reached down with his other hand to unbuckle both of their belts. He pulled away from Charles' lips and stage-whispered against Charles' ear “Buttons, Mr. Xavier.” 

Charles prayed to whatever sick fuck watching over them that Raven didn't hear that, and fumbled with the buttons of Marko's shirt. He couldn't help releasing a soft pant when Marko moved against him again, and his cheeks coloured with self-loathing and embarrassment when he realised Raven must have heard that, and probably recognised who it came from.

Charles opened his eyes when his step-father pulled away to look down at him. “You're so beautiful.” He brushed his fingers against Charles' flushed cheeks. “Say my name.”

Charles swallowed around the bile in his throat. “Kurt.” he whispered. 

“I can't hear you.”

Charles had to hold back a sob. Raven was going to have to hear everything. “Kurt.”

Marko groaned and dropped his head on Charles' shoulder, whipping Charles' belt out of his belt-loops and throwing it on the floor. Charles winced at the loud noise it made.

 

Raven could hear everything, almost as if her hearing had been enhanced just to torment her. She heard something drop to the floor, _a belt,_ and it hit her that this was actually happening. It was happening to the person she cared most about in this world, in the room right behind that door, and she _couldn't move._

She was regretting her decision now, but she also knew it was the only decision she could have made. She knew this wasn't what Charles wanted, but she just couldn't bring herself to walk the other way and leave him alone like that. She heard _him_ groan again, and Charles pant, before she heard a second object hit the ground. 

Her breathing was coming short, bile rose in her throat, but there was _nothing_ she could do about it. She was angry at Charles for this, for _controlling_ her, but she knew he saw no other option, and so forgave him for that. This was her decision, and she was going to stand by it. She heard Charles whine and couldn't help a small sob, her body reacting independently of her conscious mind so that even Charles couldn't control it.

She could _hear it._ Every time Charles was forced to say his name, every command the sick bastard gave him, every breath and every rustle of fabric. She could hear it now, fabric moving against skin, and tried her hardest not to think about what was happening.

“Sir, p-please stop and think-”

She heard skin hit skin – the sound of Marko striking him “Did I ask you to speak?”

“No, sir.” Charles whined at something Marko must have done to him.

“Then remain silent.”

She heard more rustling and panting, and then another strangled cry from Charles “Sir, please stop-”

She would've jumped at the sound of Charles near screaming at whatever he did next. She couldn't listen to this, it was too much. Why had she let this happen? How could she do this to Charles? She felt a tear run down her cheek _'Charles, I can't do this. Let me go.'_

_ No answer. _

_ 'Charles?' _

_ Still nothing _

_'Charles?! Charles, please.'_ She projected the message with as much force as she could as she heard Charles cry out again.

_ He's blocked me off. _

The realisation hit her and triggered her desperation. She fought with all her strength against Charles' influence, to no avail.

The tears ran freely now. She couldn't think what to do, so she tried to distract herself from the noise.

_ Zero, seven, fourteen, twenty-one, twenty eight, thirty- _

Charles cried out again. 

“Again.”

Charles complied, forcefully letting out another cry of pain. Marko groaned at the sound.

_ Thirty... thirty-what? Thirty-five! Forty-two, forty-nine, fifty-six- _

She could _see_ Marko smothering Charles' next cry with his lips, groaning into his mouth – as though they were right in front of her. She felt Charles' concentration finally break and collapsed on the floor, like a puppet with it's strings cut. She breathed heavily to regain her wits, and slowly stood up, careful not to be too loud and wobbling on her feet. She stumbled over to the door, her disguise fading, and ran out into the hallway, out the back door and into the garden. She gulped around the fresh air and choked on her sobs, finally free to wipe her tears and stuff her fist in her mouth so she couldn't make any noise. Her vision throbbed with the sudden rush, and Charles' screams still rang in her ears. Her breathing came short, struggling around what little air she could force into her lungs, and she slid down the exterior wall around a stone ornament, facing away from the door. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head between her knees, trying to breathe through the haze and the sounds of her best friend – her _brother_ – crying out in pain and humiliation.

 

164

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...soz
> 
> comment any requests, proof-reading or improvements you can think of. thanks for reading.


	7. 'Breathe In. Breathe Out.'

 

 

Wesley had his arm around his mother's waist, supporting her tired form through the front gate and around the corner. “We should get you to bed and I'll make you some tea-”

“I'll be fine, sweetie, just get me inside.”

“Sometimes you need to accept help-” He was cut short at the sound of a sharp gasp coming from around the other side of the ornament beside the door. His mother didn't appear to have heard it. “Actually, mother, you go in first, I'll follow in a minute.”

She looked confused. “O-okay, sweetie. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Just give me a minute, okay?”

She just turned and limped through the front door. Wesley watched her leave and then followed the sounds of ragged breathing around the corner. He looked at his feet and saw Raven there, blue and coiled in on herself, crying and gasping for air. God knows, Wesley knew what that was like. He cleared his throat to alert her of his presence, crouched down beside her and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Raven?” He whispered her name as softly as he could in her ear. “Raven, you're having a panic attack. I'm here now, and you're safe, everything's going to be okay. Are you hurt?”

Raven shook her head “Charles.”

Wesley's chest tightened “What happened?”

Raven shook her head again, and her breath caught, her chest moving frantically in an attempt to suck in some air.

Wesley crouched in front of her “Can you hear my breathing?”

She nodded.

“Try to copy it.”

He reached around her shoulders and awkwardly pulled her into his arms, breathing next to her ear. 

She struggled to copy his breathing, but couldn't quite manage it.

“Raven, it's okay. Mother's home, so nothing bad can happen now. He's safe, just try to copy my breathing. Take your time, and then we'll worry about Charles, okay?” 

She nodded and took her first deep breath, letting it out with a shaky sigh.

“That's it. You're doing great. You're certainly better at this than I am. Come on, one more breath.” He reached around to the pocket of his jacket and took out his tablets. “These are prescription so they'll make you feel a bit funny, but they'll make it easier to breathe. Just take two, okay?” He took two out and handed them to Raven. She took them and then took another deep breath. Her vision started to return. 

Wesley grabbed her hand and pulled it under his jacket. “You feel the heat?”

She nodded.

He pressed her hand against his chest “Can you feel my heart-beat?"

Raven paused for a moment, and then nodded.

“Speeds up when I breathe in?”

She nodded again.

“Six quick ones in, four slow ones out. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes.”

“There she is!” He knew he was being patronising, but he was just doing what he knew made it easier for him. “Rest your head against my chest.” 

She did as he said. 

“Can you hear my voice?”

“Uh-huh.”

Wesley started to hum aimlessly, keeping his voice low for the vibrations.

“You have an amazing voice.”

Wesley laughed softly “Charles' always calms me right down.”

“Does he do this for you?”

“When he can, yes.” Wesley gave her a moment more of silence, but then he had to get her to talk. “Raven? Are you ready to talk now?”

She sighed “I... I don't know if I can say...”

“I know it's hard, but please try. I don't want to startle him, so I need to know what to expect.” Raven opened her mouth, closed it again, and shook her head.

“Raven, breathe.”

She took another deep breath.

“Did he hurt him?”

“Y-yes.”

“Burns, cuts, bruises..?” 

“N-not exactly.”

“Raven, we can't do this by process of elimination. Start from the beginning. What happened first, and how do you know about it?”

“H-he lead Charles into the dining area and told him to sit down. I was in the next room and I could h-hear everything-” She took a deep breath “Hear everything they said. He started to talk about Charles father and how they met, and how he was jealous of Mr. Xavier's life; his mansion, his money, his wife and... and his looks. He said Charles looked like his father. Charles asked him why he was talking about his father and he said he had 'unfinished business' with him and-” She had to swallow and take another deep breath “and he didn't really say what but I could-” She chocked around a sob “I c-could hear it. He said that he didn't n-need to be jealous before because he has everything Mr. Xavier had, but he still didn't have Mr. Xavier himself.” She stopped and tried to breathe, every inhale coming more shaky “But he said that- He said that Ch-Charles was the next best thing.” She scrunched her eyes shut and lifted her head off Wesley's chest, turning away from him. “H-he...” Her chest tightened again, and she had to strain her voice “H-he f-forced... he forced...” She couldn't bring herself to say it.

Wesley put his hands on either side of her face and turned her to look at him. “Raven, look at me. This is important.”

She opened her eyes.

“Did he rape Charles?” 

Raven stiffened.

“Just nod or shake you head.”

She nodded.

Wesley flinched away from her like her face was on fire, his own breath coming short. “Are you able to walk?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Go and hide in the danger room, and make sure _he_ doesn't see you.”

“What are you going to do?” She said as she watched Wesley unscrew the cap on his medication again and take way too many.

“Never mind that. Don't worry about me. Worry about Marko.”

She nodded.

“I'm sorry.” He said, as he pushed her away and got up, wobbling on his legs and jogging over to the front door, already feeling his throat tighten and his chest constrict. _How could I let this happen?_

He ran down the hall and through the kitchen, and then stopped at the door leading to the lounge. He took a deep breath and strengthened the barriers around his mind; he couldn't let his own problems make things worse. He turned the handle and gently pushed the door open, stopping to let his eyes adjust to the darker room, and then quietly padded over the carpet to where he outline of his brother lay across the couch, covered in a throw. He swallowed and took another shaky breath, his heart pounding in his ears and his breathing sounding louder than usual. “Charles?” He whispered down at the huddled form.

Charles didn't reply.

“Raven is outside. She's fine.” 

Charles turned his head at that. “How much did she tell you?” His voice was hoarse, which worried Wesley even more.

“Not much, but I know what happened.” He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't break “She was too upset to tell me much.

Charles nodded and turned his face back into the crook of the lounge. Wesley sat behind his furled legs and rested his hand on Charles' ankle. He felt his throat tighten even further and his eyes sting. “Are you in pain?”

“Guess.”

Wesley bit his lip “Just please tell me how I can help you.”

“Preserve whatever's left of my dignity.”

“How?”

“Leave.”

“Nice try. I'm not going anywhere.”

“That's what Raven said.” 

Wesley screwed his eyes shut and focused on keeping his sobs quiet. “I sent her to the bunker. She's... safe, but I don't want to leave her down there for too long.”

“You needn't worry, Marko's passed out, anyway.”

“Passed out?”

“Too much alcohol.” Charles pulled the blanket around himself and sat up, turning to look at his brother. “You're crying.”

“Well spotted.”

Charles wrapped the blanket tighter around himself and pulled his knees up to his chin. Wesley put his arm around his shoulders and Charles dropped his head onto Wesley's chest, listening to his heart-beat and finally letting himself cry. Wesley reached up and wrapped his hand around Charles' neck “Why'd you let him do this to you, Charlie?”

“H-he threatened me with Sharon.”

Wesley groaned and dropped his head in Charles' hair “I'm so sorry.”

“W-what for?”

“Letting this happen. I knew he was gonna try something, I just never imagined-”

“Even I didn't imagine he would go this far, Wes.”

Wesley kissed the top of his head “I know. Let it out. I'm so sorry, Charles, but you're gonna have to pretend none of this happened in the morning.” Charles screwed his eyes shut.

He wound his hand into Wes' shirt and buried his face in the lining of his jacket “I never want to even see his face again.”

Wesley whined and ducked down to kiss Charles' neck and run his fingers through his hair.

“Wes, I need you.”

“You've got me, Charles.”

Charles pushed against Wesley's mental barriers. 

“No, Charles. I don't want you in there, especially not now.”

“I won't show you anything that he did to me-”

“I know, but I can't keep specific thoughts from you, and I don't want you to see all of them right now”

“Why?”

“You'll see. Just give me some time to order them, yeah?”

Charles nodded into his chest and crawled up to sit on Wesley's lap. Wesley bunched Charles' blankets in his fist and brought them tighter around Charles' waist. “We can't stay out here.”

Charles slid his arms out of the blanket and wrapped them around Wesley's neck, who stretched his arms under Charles' legs and around his back, and lifted him up in his arms, awkwardly pulling him up off the couch and carrying him towards the hall. He carried him all the way upstairs to his room and put him on his bed, adding the duvet to Charles' blankets and lying down in front of him. He brushed Charles' hair out of his tear-stained eyes and ran his thumb along his bottom lip. 

“Are you injured?”

“Nothing a few days of rest won't fix.”

“You need to clean up for tomorrow.”

Charles wound his arm around Wesley's waist “Can we just lie here for a bit?”

“If you'll tell Raven it's safe to leave the bunker.”

He nodded and touched his fingers to his temple. He had to force his way through the concrete walls before he could reach Raven. _'It's safe to leave. Marko is passed out.'_ He didn't even leave the line open long enough for her to reply.

Wesley twisted round to lie on his back and lifted Charles' hand off his temple and twined their fingers together, then slipped his other arm under Charles' neck and stared up at the ceiling.

“Wesley?”

“Hm?”

“I don't want him to hurt you.”

“He won't, you know that.”

“Why do you sound so unhappy about that?”

“Because I have to just watch as he pulls your strings and breaks you and pretend none of it kills me or he'll just do the same thing to me.”

“He doesn't break me. He'll never get that far. I'm so sorry I'm not strong enough to keep you out of this.”

Wesley laughed “there's absolutely no way you could possibly keep me out of this.” he rolled over and looked Charles straight in the eyes “I live in the same house, share the same twisted fuckwit of a stepfather and I love you, Charles. There's nothing you can do about that, and I was stupid to ever think that closing you off would ever fix that.”

“What can I do?”

Wesley hesitated. He huffed and then screwed his eyes shut, reaching up to ball his fist in Charles' hair “Charlie, there are some... risks that come with what he did to you. I can't help you with all of them but-”

“No.”

“Charles, just tell me-”

“No. No way in hell. I would never do that to you. No. I can take care of myself-”

“Charles-”

“Don't 'Charles' me, no matter what you say I'm not involving you in this any more than you already are-”

“This is dangerous on so many levels-”

“NO!” He covered his mouth in shock, his voice broke and crackled and grazed and he winced. 

Wesley forced his eyes open “I'm sorry, Charles, but you have to try and relax your voice. You have to sound at least half decent tomorrow or mother will suspect.” He reached around Charles neck and brushed his fingers over the spot where Charles' voice box would be “And you need to take care of yourself.”

“Okay,” Charles whispered.

Wesley hoisted himself up and kissed Charles' forehead. “Now, Charles, please listen to me. Can you at least do that?”

Charles nodded.

“I will have no peace of mind until we make sure he hasn't hurt you – permanently – so I need you to trust me and please, please, don't blame this on yourself.”

“No, Wes. Please.”

Wesley cleared his throat “You're going to take a shower with me and I'll try to make this as comfortable as possible.”

“No, Wes!” 

Wesley could hear the stress in his voice even without the vocals. Charles had started to tear up again, “Please don't do this to me.”

Wesley struggled to speak around the lump in his throat “I have to, Charlie, I'm so sorry.”

“Raven already heard so much, I can't do that to you as well.”

“Yes, you can. And you will.”

“I can handle myself,” He whined.

“Not with everything, you can't. Come on, Charles. Since when has blocking things off served us well?”

“Since Marko did something so awful I wouldn't wish to burden _anybody_ with it let alone you.”

Wesley groaned and ran his palms across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He stood up and gently rolled the duvet off Charles, reaching under his legs and back – still wrapped in a blanket, and pulling his brother up against his chest. Charles buried his face in his brother's neck. “Wes, please reconsider.”

Wesley didn't say anything, not trusting his voice, and carried his brother over to the en-suite. He stepped through the frame and gently placed Charles' feet on the floor, still keeping his arm around his waist – half to steady him and half to keep him from running. Charles began to struggle.

Wesley buried his face in Charles' chair and shushed him. “Charles, I have a question for you and you need to answer it truthfully.”

Charles nodded.

“Are you scared of me?”

“No. Of course not.”

“And this one I want you to think about for a bit and then, no matter how much you don't want to say it, you have to tell me the truth. Clear?”

Charles nodded.

“Charles, my love, would you please, please, for the sake of my sanity, let me look at you and help you, and can I be sure that I can do so without hurting you or violating you, mentally or physically?”

Charles' breath shook, and he had to breathe a few times to collect himself. “You're not capable of hurting me like he did-”

“No. That's not a good enough answer. Will what I am about to do to you be for or against your will? Please consider that I only wish to help you, I have no other motives, and that you can trust me.”

Charles took another shaky breath and nodded.

“No, Charles, I need your verbal permission.”

“Y-you have my consent, Wesley, and you will not hurt me by doing this. Not directly, at least.” Charles struggled to make his voice clear.

“Okay, Charles. Thank you.” Wesley slipped his free arm around Charles' shoulders and leant back, looking into his eyes and smiling. “I love you so much, okay?”

Charles bit his lip and nodded.

“I won't judge you, I won't objectify you, and I promise you that I can handle what he's done to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It will make me very angry, but I won't lash out. I am very protective of you, Charles, but I won't do anything rash, I promise.”

Charles nodded again.

Wesley reached behind him and turned on the hot faucet on the shower. He unwound his hands from Charles' waist and shoulders and quickly yanked his jacket and shirt off. He reached forward and cupped Charles' jaw. “Can I kiss you, Charles?” 

Charles nodded and reached forward to meet Wesley half way, pushing back with a sort of tired enthusiasm. Wesley pulled away and rested his forehead against Charles'. “The water's warm now. I'm gonna take this off, okay? He fiddled with the throw wrapped around Charles as he said it.

“O-okay.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.”

Wesley slid his arm through the neck of he throw and tucked his hand into Charles's shoulder, and then gently slipped the throw off, keeping his eyes on Charles' face. “I want you to tell me when it's okay to look. Take all night, if you need to. We have time.” He still kept his eyes firmly fixed on Charles' face.”

“Th-there's going to be a lot of bruising and... there are a few burns.”

Wesley forced himself to take a breath in and nodded.

“I'm very thin... much more so than I was last time you saw me and...” He sucked in a breath and forced himself to look into Wesley's eyes “And there's going to be blood.”

Wesley swallowed and nodded again.  


“I'm so sorry, Wes, you shouldn't have to see this.”

“I'm okay, I promise.”

“B-back me up under the water.”

Wesley nodded and peered behind Charles' shoulder, guiding him backwards under the spray “The wall is about a foot behind you.”

“You- Y-you can look now.”

“Okay.”

He leant forward, drew their foreheads together again, and then carefully looked down. He had to close his eyes for a second and mentally prepare himself for this. He felt the water from the shower start to soak through his hair and trickle down his closed eyelids. He could feel Charles' ragged breaths wracking his whole body.

“A-are you okay?”

Wesley chuckled darkly “I'm fine. Let's sit down on the floor and we'll take our time. Please tell me if it's too much.”

"Charles slid down the tiled wall and pulled his legs in, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees. Wesley sat cross-legged in front of him and kept his eyes trained on Charles' face.

"You're still wearing your trousers."

"They can get wet."

"Why won't you just let me do this myself?"

"Because you won't."

"Who says I won't?"

"Says your blatant disregard for the self. When was the last time you ate? And it doesn't look like you've even tended to this," He pointed to a cut across Charles' forearm which had been there for days.

"Says the drunk."

"Says the ex-drunk."

"He gets angry when I try to do anything to help it."

"That's sick."

"Brilliant deduction, Dr Watson."

"Sorry."

Charles shrugged "I've always been able to handle whatever he threw at me, until now."

"We'll handle it."

"Stop making this about you-"

"I'm not making this about me, I'm making it about _us._ Regardless of whatever twisted shit goes down between us, I am, in fact, your brother. You can't keep me out of this, Charles. Please accept that."

Charles dropped his forehead onto his knees and sighed, wishing he could just black out and never have to live through the next few months. "Everything's shit."

"I wish I could disagree with you." He reached over and pulled back the strands of hair plastered to Charles' face, trying not to notice how god-like he looked under the shower spray, "Charles, we can't just sit here forever."

"Humour me."

 

 

 

 

It was almost half an hour before the boys had left the shower and gotten dressed, Wesley having helped Charles get into something comfortable with shaky hands and then reaching over to kiss the tight skin over Charles' neck where there was a particularly ugly bruise in the shape of Marko's fingers. He tucked Charles back into bed and kissed his forehead. “Are you okay?” His voice came out all strained.

“I'll cope.”

“Okay, I'm...” He took a number of short, shuddering breaths “I'm going to have a panic attack now.”

Charles propped himself up on the headboard and opened his arms in invitation. Wesley whined and crawled onto Charles' lap, clinging to his brother's flannel shirt and curling himself into his chest.

Charles threaded his fingers through Wesley's hair, took in a few deep breaths, and started to hum, tapping a sort of rhythm on Wesley's shoulder for him to try to breathe to. Charles' damaged voice turned too gravelly after a short while, so they simply stayed like that in silence for a long time, finding comfort in falling apart together. Eventually, Wesley lifted himself up and tucked himself under the blankets, pulling Charles down with him. Charles' eyes flitted closed, and Wesley ran his fingers through his brother's hair until he fell asleep, and then lay awake watching the peaceful expression on the telepath's face until morning.

266


	8. 'Something More Permanent: Part 1'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really just a short fill-in for the next chapter, which I'm still trying to get my head around.

 

 

Charles woke up to Wesley's worn out, but nevertheless beautiful, smile, which was nice, but then the memories came flooding back, and he groaned and tucked his head into Wesley's shoulder. “I'm going to have to talk to Raven.”

“I can be there, if you want. Sing a few notes so I can check your voice.”

Charles repeated the tune he'd been humming to Wesley last night, and grinned a little when Wesley nodded in approval. “Convincing enough.”

“What's the time?”

“About 7:30. Marko will call us down in about an hour and, knowing him, he'll probably have the maid prepare something particularly tough and scratchy for breakfast, just to play with you. Am I on the right track?”

“Sadly.”

“Can I ask – is the loss of your voice from shouting or something else?”

“I know what you're thinking, and I'm not going to answer that.”

“I'll take that as an affirmation.”

Charles looked faintly angry at that “You may interpret that however you want, I won't divulge to you the filthy details.”

“Sorry.”

Charles just waved it off “Just help me look presentable, will you? I'll just go quickly get changed, and then you're going to help make me look fresh like morning dew, and I'll fuss around with your stupid laces in return. Seem fair?”

“They're not stupid.”

“Yes they are. You don't need half that many hooks to keep them on. God knows how impracticality became a fashion statement but it's a bloody tedious trend.”

“Alright, snarky-pants. Go get your grandpa sweaters on. I'll be out here.”

“Asshole.”

“'Asshole'” Wesley responded in a mostly failed imitation of Charles' accent.

Charles came back out in a woolly sweater and pair of tan trousers which Wesley thought were the absolute all-time low of european fashion and sat on the bed, cross legged across from his brother. Wesley worried his bottom lip between his teeth and then reached behind him into the bedside drawer, pulling out a little compact case and propping it open.

“Wesley... Is that mother's?”

“Uh-huh. It's her powder. It matches my skin colour pretty well, so it should match yours.”

Charles raised his eyebrows at him.

“What? It's not like the woman has any shortage of the stuff and my run with man's lovely bottled friend completely disgraced my complexion on every day that mattered the most.” He glared at the untouched bottle of whiskey that sat on his desk for the past months like the golden liquid had personally offended him.

Charles chuckled “Well, it didn't much succeed in hiding it, what with you walking around smelling like a filthy sailor.”

“Hey! I think I held together pretty well, thank you very much.”

“I don't see mother's stolen powder agreeing with you, there.”

Wesley huffed “Just lean forward and close your eyes.”

Charles complied and Wesley busied himself covering the tired circles under his brother's eyes and the deep bruise on his neck and jaw. “There, that should hide it for a couple of hours. I had to put it on fairly thinly or it would have been obvious.”

“Thanks.”

Wesley got up without answering and stood in front of the mirror. He sighed and then got to work covering the circles under his own eyes as well. He put the powder away and then sat back down, wrapping his arm around his brother's shoulders. “Alright. Time to practice your best smile and mentally prepare yourself for acting like nothing happened last night.” 

Charles seemed to deflate from under his arm. Wesley pulled him closer and Charles rested his head on his brother's shoulder. 

They sat like that in silence until the bell rang to signify breakfast. Wesley stood up first and offered his hand to Charles, who took it with a resigned sigh and let his brother pull him up and out the door.

They broke apart just before they passed the archway leading to the dining room and dragged their feet around the corner to see their mother and father sat at opposite ends of the table, Cain sitting on Marko's right, Sharon looking considerably tired. “Wesley, Charles” Marko said, looking into Charles' eyes as he said his name. Charles held his gaze, careful not to be the first to break away. “Sit.” He gestured to the seats either side of the table.

Wesley threw Charles a look and sat down. Charles kept standing, clutching the back of the chair as he continued to stare into Marko's eyes. Marko began to fidget, getting uncomfortable but still refusing to look away. Charles grit his teeth and stretched his lips into a smirk, letting cold amusement reach his eyes “Good morning, _sir_.”

Marko's eyes finally flitted to the table and he cleared his throat, picking up a dessert spoon just for something to do with his hands.

Finally, Charles sat down, turning to face his brother who sat completely rigid, staring intently at his cutlery and furiously trying not to flush with anger, to no avail.

Marko turned to him next, staring at his step-son's profile until he looked up at him “Well? Say good morning to your mother. What's wrong with you this morning?”

Wesley swallowed “Nothing, sir. Good morning, mother. How are you feeling?”

“I'm-”

“She's fine,” Kurt interrupted “aren't you, dear?”

“Y-yes, dear.” She attempted a weak smile.

Cain remained silent, and Charles noted that he was avoiding his father's gaze like poison.

The maid walked in holding a tray that rattled slightly in her delicate hands, and set it on the table, straightened up and brushed off her apron, turning to Marko. “W-will I fetch the water jug, sir?”

“Maria, you've been working here as long as I've been master of this house, what do you expect?”

_ 'Raven? What are you doing here?' _

_ 'Are you wearing powder?' _

_ 'Don't avoid the question.' _

“Maria!” Kurt clicked his fingers in front of her glazed eyes “Stop waisting my morning, child.”

“R-right. Sorry, sir.” 

Kurt watched her go, his eyes trailing on her figure as it swayed while she walked.

Wesley subtly jerked his head in her direction and raised his brow in question. Charles nodded and then turned to his step father “How did you sleep, sir?”

_ 'You still haven't answered my question.' _

_ 'You know why I'm here, Charles.' _

_ 'I suppose what I'm looking for is an apology.' _

_ 'An  _ apology _? Really? What the hell for, Charles? I came up here to make sure you're okay!'_

_ 'Which I appreciate, but you're putting yourself in danger and what the hell did you do with Maria?' _

_ 'She's only slightly unconscious, and anyway, you're just shouting me down because you can't face me! What the hell, Charles, you couldn't even make eye-contact. I'm worried about you!' _

_ 'How the  _ hell  _can you expect me to look into your eyes after what I put you through-'_

_ 'Put  _ me  _though?' Charles, you didn't put me through anything, it was my choice-'_

Charles broke the line and turned his attention to the over-sized feast of bacon, eggs and toast, the very sight of which made him feel sick. His brother was alternating between throwing his brother concerned looks and glaring sideways at his step father.  


He looked over at Cain, hesitated, and then brushed against his mind. He flinched when memories of a particularly vicious argument with his father surfaced, quickly retracting his own mind and looking down at the empty plate in front of him so as to avoid eye-contact.

Wesley noticed, sending Charles a questioning look when he finally looked up. Charles shook his head, just enough for Wesley to see, and turned to Sharon. “How was your evening, mother?”

Marko's head snapped up at that, and he glared at his wife, as if daring her to say an ill word.

“I-it was lovely, dear. Wonderful service at the restaurant we went to. What was the name again, Wesley?”

“It was a french name. You know how I am with names.”

“Well, the meals were a little small, but the desserts were lovely. How was your evening, dear?”

Charles dared a glance at Marko, and immediately regretted it. He quickly turned away and swallowed his fear “It was fine. Rather uneventful, to be honest.” He could sense Raven listening at the door again, seething with a rage so strong Charles would have a hard time blocking it even if he set his mind to it.

Suddenly, Marko growled and threw his fist down onto the table, making the crockery clatter.“Maria! Where the hell are you, you stupid child?!” 

“You're very quick-tempered this morning, sir,” Charles caught Cain's eye as he said it, who appeared to be half hoping Charles would pay the price for his risky words and half praying he'd spare their morning from upset, judging by what few thought he caught. “Is something troubling you?”

“Only the maid's incompetence, Charles.”

“Well, perhaps you ought to account for the fact that she's swept the floors and folded your sheets for the past five years, or are you above showing the people who keep your life from falling to shambles some respect?”

_ 'Charles. Don't start anything.' Raven projected. _

_ 'Too late.'  _ He thought back, as he watched the anger turn Marko's eyes almost black, and make his muscles tremble enough to shake the table from where he gripped the edges, his knuckles going white under the stress.

“Sweetheart?” Sharon's voice came as barely a whisper, but it could be heard clearly across the dangerously silent room. “Please, calm down. We would not wish to cause a scene when the day has hardly started, now, would we?”

He slacked his grip on the table, and huffed as he sat back in his chair, cooling his angry features to host something much scarier; a sort of calm, dormant resignation. “Do not ever tell me what to do again,  _Sharon_ .”

Charles could see the heat rise up Wesley's neck from across the table, and reminded himself that his brother had hardly bared witness to the horrors Marko released on their mother, having not shared Charles' third sight for most of the past year. 

Marko turned to Charles again, “And you will watch your mouth around your superiors, boy, or would you rather I give you something more permanent to remember, next time you forget your place?” Marko picked up his glass of whiskey, bringing the drink to his lips and releasing a waft of the scent across the table.

Charles jumped up from his seat, surprising even himself, “Excuse me.” He left in the direction of the hall and disappeared around the corner. Wesley stood up, scraping the chair along the floor with him.

“And where are you going?” Marko growled up at him.

Wesley didn't answer in fear that he'd attack him or shout at him or give some other indication that he knew what the bastard had done, so he simply trained his eyes on the spot Charles had disappeared behind and bee-lined before he could do something he'd regret.

 

 

197

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter shouldn't be too far away, but I'm still uncertain as to where I'm headed on a micro level for the next chapter, so have patience with me. as always, leave comments or suggestions if you wish (seriously comments make my day) and maybe you'd like to see something happen in this fic? just let me know and I'll consider it.
> 
> btw my tumblr is gangster-whovian if you're interested


	9. 'I Don't Know What to Think'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, finally
> 
> the ending is a little abrupt, but the next chapter will account for that
> 
> sorry it took so long to post this, guys. I promised I'd get it up quickly, but I was his with a bad mental health week so it took me longer than it should have to get this finalized.

 

 

After a ridiculously long search, Wesley found Charles almost at the very far reaches of their immense property under a maple tree, sitting cross-legged and fiddling with his wrist band as he stared past the property border. 

Wesley cleared his throat, making Charles jump. “Whoa, did I actually startle you? I didn't know that was possible.”

Charles shrugged “I suppose I'm distracted.”

“Distracted?”

“I have a lot on my mind. I don't know what you expect. There's a lot of things that I'd rather not hear.” He tapped the side of his head and looked down at his lap as he said this, as if he were ashamed.

“Charles, you know not to go poking around in other people's business-”

“I don't go 'poking around'! You know I can't help half the things I hear.”

“What've you heard?"

“Everything. I can't block it as effectively as I used to.”

“Why's that?”

“Think about it, Wesley Xavier. Really think about it; what could have possibly changed in Charlie's life to make it that much harder to block out the pain?”

“Someone's in a mood.”

“I wonder why.”

“That was Raven, wasn't it? Posing as the maid, I mean.”

Charles nodded.

“What did she say?”

“'I just wanted to see if you were okay, Charles'” He rose his voice and put on an insultingly exaggerated American accent, “'it was my choice, Charles. Don't blame yourself, Charles' et cetera, et cetera.”

“She's just worried about you.”

“She's traumatised.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She is! And rightly so.”

“It was her choice, though? To be there, I mean.”

Charles glared at his brother like he'd gone mad “Well of course, but it was _my_ choice to let that pathetic excuse of a man... Do you honestly think that makes a difference?”

“Just tell me. Was it her choice?”

“Of course it was. Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean, 'sort of'?”

“She... tried to step in. I don't know what... what _He_ would have done to her if she did, and she can't always keep up appearances when she's distracted so she could have slipped up-”

“Get to the point.”

Charles sighed “I gave her the option to either leave, or I keep her where she was.”

Wesley didn't have anything to say to that.

“She heard everything. Well, not everything, but it was enough.” Charles tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat.

Wesley wrapped and arm around his brother “Don't blame yourself.”

“For what? Failing to stand up to him, or keeping my sister frozen in ear shot?” his voice broke at the end, so he cut himself off and tried again to breathe deeply.

“We both know what sacrifice you made last night, and we know exactly why you did it, and why you saw no other choice. Please don't think that we're stupid enough to actually believe that you would do something like that if you saw any other way.”

“I don't think you're stupid.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Common mistake made by brilliant people such as yourself is to assume that everybody else is stupid.”

Charles slapped his hand over his heart and gasped “Wesley Xavier, did you just call me a genius?”

“Don't sound so surprised.”

Wesley let Charles sit in silence a little longer before he brought up the subject of breakfast, but he knew he'd have to talk to Charles about it at some point. Finally, he sighed and rested his head on Charles' shoulder “What happened?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“At breakfast. What happened? Seizure? unexpected orgasm?”

“Mind if I keep that detail to myself?”

“Yes.”

“Be damned, then. And stop making my life into a joke.”

“Just trying lighten the mood.”

“Well so far you've only managed to irritate me.”

“Should I rephrase, then? Would that make you talk?”

“I'll leave you to find out for yourself.”

Wesley mumbled something unintelligible and shuffled his feet around into a crouch, facing Charles. Charles just looked up at him with a blank expression. Wesley brushed off his trousers and then swung his legs around either side of Charles' waist and sat facing him on his lap. Charles' eyes widened in surprise and he peaked around the trunk of the maple tree to be sure no-one was nearby. “Wes! What if we get caught?

“I have my eye on the house, don't worry.” He figured this would be easier if he didn't have to worry about what his expression betrayed on top of it all, so he buried his face in the crook of Charles' neck and whispered into his ear instead. “Charles?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“... I think so.”

“What happened?”

“That's for you to ponder.”

“Please. I need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't know if I caused it, and I don't want to set you off in the future.”

Charles didn't reply for a few minutes, but Wesley knew he was just thinking about his answer, so waited patiently.

“I think it was the scent of alcohol, but I can't be sure.”

“Can't be sure.” He didn't say it like a question.

“Self-analysis can be harder than you'd think.”

“Apparently.”

“What does that mean?”

“You have no idea what any of this means for you. If the same thing happened to anyone else you'd know immediately but in your case you're just confused as to how this is going to affect you.”

“There, see? Not stupid.”

“You never said I was smart, either. Remember when you called me 'slow'?”

“You were drunk.”

“I'd showered.”

“You were still drunk.”

“Shut up.”

“Then stop drinking.”

Wesley groaned “Siblings.”

“Will you stop drinking?”

“If there's any risk I might trigger you.”

“I wasn't triggered.”

“Yes you were.”

“No I wasn't.”

“We just discussed this. You're bad at self-analysis.”

“I'm not bad at self-analysis, this is just a hard thing to analyse.”

“So you admit you might have been triggered?”

“What? No, I'm just Angry. And exhausted.”

“Exhausted?”

Charles huffed “A survivor of war just moved in about a mile out who's son refuses to look him in the eye and who's wife died in the bombing of a hospital; Mrs. Harriet suffered a miscarriage last Thursday; there's an elderly woman with a brain tumour sleeping on the park bench because her son deemed her too difficult to live with; Mr. Coul – who's a very sweet and generous man – just lost two sheep to a wild animal; there is a man about half a mile north who's been sentenced to a life in prison after being caught with the butler and... Sharon, I fear, isn't far from her death, and is suffering terribly at Marko's hand. Raven is hurting and won't stop worrying about me; no manner of mental barriers could possibly deter the constant barrage of blunt knives forged from every sick fantasy Marko pleasures himself with-”

“Charles. Stop.”

“Why? I could keep going all morning-”

“And how will that help?”

“You tell me. You're the one who asked in the first place.”

“This has never bothered you before.”

“That isn't true. The first few months after my 'gifts' first appeared were a living hell.”

“Why again now?”

“We discussed this. I have too much on my mind to reign the expanse of my consciousness and contain it within my own mind-”

“Wait, what?”

Charles sighed “Sometimes it's difficult to keep from answering people's calls. In just the same way that one would react to someone crying out, it's often hard to ignore people's suffering and turn my back on their pain. The closer they are, the louder their thoughts, the harder it is to ignore them.”

“The dreaded sixth sense.”

“It's not the sixth sense that's dreaded, it's the people that it reads. Humans were never meant to be able to hear each others' thoughts. My 'gift' is a mistake of nature.”

“God never makes mistakes.”

“You honestly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“That's very closed-minded.”

“I have faith.”

“How can you say that and have your brother? How can you watch someone you love being raped by someone you're supposed to be able to trust and say that?”

“I believe God must make terrible choices to keep the balance.”

“He sounds like a prick.”

“Maybe he is.”

Charles snorted “So you admit to blindly following a big righteous asshole in the sky while fucking your own brother. That doesn't sound ideal.”

“It's something to believe in, nonetheless.”

Charles paused for a moment, fiddling with his wrist band again. “Father never believed.” He said it softly, as if he were almost afraid to admit it.

“Father's gone.”

“Is he, really? If you believe so strongly in the existence of God, can you really not wonder if there's an afterlife, if perhaps he's still here?”

“Where are you going with this, Charles?”

“I suppose I just wish I didn't have to accept that he's gone. He was a bit of an arse, sure, but at least I didn't hate his guts. At least I could trust that he would never hurt me. I miss that.”

“He trained you like a dog. Bred you like a pig to be sold off to that disgusting, self-important _coven_ over in Britain that are probably related to us and each other anyway-”

“But he would never hit me. He wouldn't even dream of burning or cutting me, of bending my will as he pleased and using my body as a source for nothing but his own pleasure. And he believed in me. He saw something in me other than my comparative physical weakness. He deemed _me_ more suited to a life high in the ranks, as a leader, and you as the protector. I can't deny that he treated us much like a children's colouring book at times but I can forgive him for that.”

“And you can't forgive Kurt for what he did to you.”

“I'm not really sure of anything anymore.”

“What? Do you honestly think you should forgive him for doing that to you?”

“Well, I did let him do it. I suppose he wasn't doing anything wrong as long as I-”

“Charles! You of all people know that there's a difference between consent and submission.”

Charles huffed and rested his chin on Wesley's shoulder. “I... Don't know what to think.”

“Do you want me to help you with that? He forced himself on you. He forced you to allow it. Your only option was to hurt the people you love or give in, and your natural selflessness made you make a frankly quite stupid decision, but a noble one nevertheless. Don't let the bastard fool you into believing he's not at fault, here.”

Charles didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and closed his eyes.

“Do you believe me, Charles?”

“I don't know.”

Wesley ran his hands down Charles' back and sighed. “That's okay. It's normal to be uncertain, just try not to blame yourself.”

“Since when did you become the expert?”

“I don't have to be. I just have to have functional eyes and ears, something I forgot I had over the twelve months I left you alone with him.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wonder if we were both better off that way.”

“I don't think I really care anymore.”

“Good for you.”

“Bad for me, actually. Bad for both of us.”

“I think you care.”

Wesley didn't reply.

“If there's one thing I've learned about the human species it's that they're _the_ masters of denial.”

“They?”

“... We.”

“So you _were_ triggered? You just can't face it.”

Charles playfully slapped his brother's shoulder “Yeah, probably.”

“Wow, did Charles Xavier just admit to being wrong? I swear, you're a new person today.”

Charles sniggered “I think I've just accepted that I'll always be a narcissistic arse and you'll always be an annoying prick.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

_ 'Hey Charles?' _

_ 'Wesley.' _

_ 'Hi.' _

_ 'Hi, there. Jeez, Wes. Calm your thoughts.' _

_ 'That easy, huh?' _

_ 'Why can't I go further than lingual thoughts?' _

_ 'Because I don't want you to.' _

_ 'That's incredibly frustrating.' _

_ 'Would you rather I closed you off altogether?' _

_ 'NO!' _

_ 'Then deal with it.' _

_ 'I can help you calm your mind if you'll just let me find the source-' _

_ 'Not happening.' _

_ 'Why?' _

_ 'What if I asked you to completely open your mind to me, so that I could see every thought, emotion and memory?' _

_ 'I wouldn't do that to you-' _

_ 'Exactly.' _

_ 'I highly doubt that you'd be half as messed up-' _

_ 'Really? You want to see what I think? You want to see everything? Think about it, Charles. You're not going to find rainbows and sunny meadows.' _

Charles sighed out loud, “I hate everything.”

“I'm deeply offended-”

“Apart from you.”

“And Raven?”

“... No, I hate her as well. For the moment.”

“At least you're honest.”

“Do you think things will ever go back to normal?”

“Define 'normal'?”

“... You have a point, actually.”

“I don't think things will ever be normal.”

Charles flinched “Wesley? Get off.”

“What?”

“Now. Kurt's on his way.”

“Since when is he Kurt?”

“Never mind. Get off before he sees us.”

Wesley hurried to comply, swinging his legs back around and helping Charles up from the ground. As soon as he was on his feet, Charles gripped Wesley's shoulders and spun them both around, slamming Wesley into the trunk of the tree. Charles waved a finger inches from Wesley's face. “Stay. Here. Don't move. Got it?”

Wesley nodded, taken aback by Charles' rough behaviour.

Charles released him and nodded, stepping around the tree that Wesley was still hiding behind just as Kurt started across the lawn towards him. “Sir.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing out here? Did I say you could just leave-”

“I'm not your slave.”

Marko smirked, “Not legally.”

Charles huffed, “I hope I'm not giving you ideas-”

He was, once again, cut off by a strike across the jaw.

“With all due respect, _sir_ , how am I expected to ever finish a sentence with you striking me across the jaw every time I try to get a word out?”

“Don't get smart with me, boy.”

“It was only a question.”

“Of which you ask to many.”

“I thought you liked that I have my father's curiosity, Kurt.”

“You will _not_ address me by my first name unless I ask you to-”

“I just can't win, can I?”

Marko growled, grabbing the front of Charles' sweater. “Do _not_ talk back.”

“You're not my master.”

“I might as well be.”

“You have me, there.”

“How you have the nerve to treat me with such disrespect is something Ishall never understand-”

“Why are you letting me stall? This is unlike you.”

Marko let go of Charles' sweater and stepped back. “I know Wesley is behind that tree.”

“I was counting on it.”

“You can't use him as your human shield forever.”

“I can at least preserve his innocence, since you at least value him enough not to create a horror scene right in front of him.”

Marko growled and shot Charles an angry scowl, before spinning on his heal dramatically and sprinting back to the house.

Wesley came out from behind the tree and walked up behind Charles.

Charles sighed “I am going to _pay_ for that speech,”

“That was a really weird moment right there.”

“Just one of many.”

“Why do you let him throw you around?”

“We've been through this.”

“It's simply a fact that you always have the power in every situation if you want it.”

Charles huffed “I'm not yet skilled enough to play around with his mind without him noticing. I could wipe his memory or confuse him but he would always notice, and I fear he'd redirect his anger somewhere else if he could no longer-”

“Charles, stop playing the hero. For this once, could you show yourself an ounce of self-respect?”

“At the cost of mother's life? She's barely holding on, Wesley. On more blow from Marko and she's gone.” His voice crackled at the end, and he coughed to cover it.

“Maybe it's her time, Charles.” Wesley whispered.

Charles barked a laugh “She's in her forties, Wes.”

“Hasn't she suffered enough?”

“She's not a sick house pet.” 

“I never said that.”

“You didn't have to. She's sick, Wesley. I can't just let him kill her. You haven't been inside his head, you have no idea what he's like. Wes, he's completely insane. I don't even know what happened to him. You know he has amnesia? He isn't even aware of what's wrong with him, but something happened to him when he was young, I'm not sure what, but he's so lost and frustrated and confused. Meddling with his mind would be the last thing he needs-”

“This isn't about what he needs, Charles.”

“I'm talking about just making things worse. It's like he has some sort of veil cast over his memory, and sometimes it extends across any logical or reasonable thought he has left. His mind is like a nightmare, I can't even tell what's happening half of the time. And then sometimes his focus is so _clear,_ and when he suddenly has clarity, his mind fixates entirely on revenge, hatred and anger, and he can't stop himself.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you're sorry for him.”

“And what if I am? He hasn't even got control over his own mind, I don't need to contribute to that.”

“Do you hear yourself? He's not a wounded animal.”

“No, he's a psychopath, and I see that, but I also see _why_ he's the way he is. At least some of it.”

 

26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't promise the next chapter will be up soon, since I go back to college next monday and I'll be pretty busy after that. Kudos and comments make my day, and encourage me to continue writing, so if you have anything to say that would be hugely appreciated.
> 
> I might come back and add a better ending to this chapter. if I do, I'll mention it in the notes at the start of the next chapter.
> 
> good luck with exams and such, I know it's a busy time for a lot of you still in school across the seas. (ps don't waste too much time on this website if you're studying for exams. If you were looking for a sign to get off the internet and study, this is it. you're welcome)


	10. 'The Next Stage in Evolution'

Not many people thought to ask Charles about his mutation, which he considered something to be thankful for. It wasn't so much that he wouldn't want someone to know, it's more that it would just be really hard to explain. 

He called it a sixths sense for a reason. It really is like nothing else, and trying to explain it would be like trying to make someone picture a new colour or explain what sight is like to somebody who's never seen before. It behaves like a sense, in a way. It demands attention, just like all his other senses, but he was never sure how much of it was unique to him, and how much of it is just because he knows his own mind and its workings better than anybody else ever could.

If you asked him, he'd probably have used visuals to describe it, but it obviously had nothing to do with the reflection of light. Sometimes he'd wonder which part of his brain processes what he finds. How much of it would be processed in the visual centres, how much depends on computing, whether what he finds is just simple code and how much of it is processed in the same way a person reads text. 

If you can imagine being able to get a sense of space without any of the senses at your own disposal, which you can't, then that's basically what Charles' sixth sense is like. People give off and aura, which is detected in almost the same way as light, like a warm glow, buzzing with life and flitting around with each changing thought, except that it would demand his attention in a way much more akin to sound, or pain, except that it wasn't always unpleasant or uncomfortable. Everybody has their own internal dialogue, which takes a form similar to sound, to speech. He supposed he could 'hear' that, but it still wasn't a sound, not really. More like an idea, a meaning; especially the conscious thoughts that didn't have distinct words attached to them. It's these 'surface' thoughts, or conscious thoughts, that are hard to block out. They're like white noise, always there and often came across as unpleasant, especially when pared with a strong emotion. Interpreting those thoughts, and actually forming them into something that he could 'read' was a whole other skill altogether, one that he didn't really start out with. In the begining, when his abilities first manifested, they appeared more like white noise accompanied by a confusing cocktail of emotions that often left him breathless.

It took him a few months to figure out how to interpret a person's 'surface' thoughts, and after that he couldn't stop himself, much like it's impossible for somebody who has learned to read to look at written text and not extract meaning from it, even though it's nothing more than a bunch of meaningless characters. The noise would never shut up, and now he could understand it as well, and he often forgot that what people were thinking wasn't said out loud, responding to questions and people thinking about his name and making people suspicious of his mutation.

It was then that he turned to his brother in an attempt to learn how to block out what people were thinking, so that they would no longer be a distraction, and wouldn't lead to him making any mistakes in every-day interactions. 

Even at that age, he was very intelligent, and he learned from early on that at least some of his ability could be learned. He even wondered if most people had hints of his ability in small doses themselves. He now treated it as a simple fact that everybody had some way of sensing emotional auras, and human presence. He discovered through his brother that his learned ability to block people's thoughts was common among all humans, if only they were taught how to utilise it. His brother clearly does not possess his abilities to the extent that he does, yet he can effectively block Charles from reaching his mind, just as Charles can. Mind barriers, as Charles liked to call them, could be made to work both ways or one, effectively blocking one's own thoughts, keeping the thoughts of others penetrating the barrier, or both at once. Most of their lives, the twins would maintain a barrier which would block out the thoughts of others, but still make their own thoughts available to anybody who could listen, so that they could talk to each other without the distraction of background noise.

This was what really made them almost behave as one being. The two of them were completely isolated from anybody but each other, unless they chose not to be. It was much later on, when Charles was about twelve, that he noticed that this was having a negative effect on the two of them. There was no doubt that the peace was far preferable to the chaos of having everybody's thoughts read aloud at once, but all humans naturally have a faint psychic connection to one-another, mainly maintained through empathy and a combination of the five senses giving most people a subconscious understanding of what could be happening in a fellow man's head. The lack of this healthy connection ostracised them in a way most humans had never been before, with the exception of the very most stubborn of introverts and those with mental 'disabilities' which wouldn't allow them to share this complex human connection.

The two of them had spent the next few years slowly lowering the barriers disconnecting them from the emotional world around them, but Charles still kept a carefully placed damper on the constant buzz of the people around him – he simply couldn't stand to have everybody screaming at him all at once.

The problem with maintaining such a fine barrier is that it's so difficult. It takes a lot of concentration to keep the barrier from collapsing either way, like trying to balance a ruler. It became easier as time passed, but it was still hard to focus on too much at once while concentrating so hard on keeping the voices out. Certain situations made it even more difficult. Where a firm barrier that blocks out all thought and emotion entirely is permanent unless deliberately taken down, and holds up on its own without any difficulty, something less heavy that lets some sense of thought and emotion in, but not all, is completely impossible to maintain while unconscious, so sleeping became a complicated affair, and social situations that are filled with intense emotion or passionate debate can make it very hard to hold up under.

This is why Charles finds so much discomfort in sitting among a crowd of people with very strong emotional and opinionated responses to the others in the room. Arguments are particularly distracting, as both sides often cause very passionate, opinionated and contradictory, yet both valid, emotional responses among everybody present. 

You think you can't sleep when you're lying in bed worrying about homework or some stupid thing you said a thousand years ago, just imagine trying to sleep with similar chaotic thoughts of everybody around you invading your mind at the same time.

 

There's no doubt that the human mind is beautiful and unique, and spectacular in its own right, but it's also very emotional, and easily broken beyond repair. There is so much pain. Everywhere Charles goes, there's somebody there who reeks of despair. How he does it, even he could never know. He shared the rage of every angry man, the confusion and desperation of every helpless victim, the loss of every widow, the regrets of every dying man, and the hopelessness of every lost soul he passes begging in the street. It never relents, and it constantly weighs on his mind, hence his incredible strike for kindness and empathy, and his passionate hatred of violence and ill-intent.

Of course, there was the good stuff as well. Nobody would ever know love like Charles did; he saw it around him every day, and he had a deeper connection with the people in his own life than anybody else would likely ever experience. He had the privilege of sharing every wonderful memory, and his favourite emotion by far was the sort he found upon meeting a happy couple, who always had that natural psychic connection stronger than anybody aside from himself. But the beautiful things would always be clouded by pain. Pain is what he would always remember, standing out in his memory much more than the happy moments. Imagine somebody complementing your dress sense in the street, and then that same person insulting the very core of your being. Which of the said stranger's words would you remember the clearest? Certainly, you might remember both, but the negative comment will always be what defines their character in you mind.

This is natural, a human's way of judging the world around them. However, Charles firmly believed that his psychic abilities were not natural. That isn't to say that he was prejudiced; he did believe that mutants were indeed the next phase in human evolution, and he could never think ill of his brother, which he knew to be a mutant as well, but his psychic abilities were surely a mistake. No human being should ever know what he knows, it just isn't right. He imagines that most people, upon learning about his mutation, would think that it is 'cool', or that he should just be grateful that it isn't physical, but he knew that they'd be wrong. They don't know what it's like. They could never understand it, but just one day of experiencing what he had to live with would most likely change their minds. Nobody deserves what he has to live through.

But he could always handle it. He could always take a deep breath, just manage a smile, and then move on. He learned a form of meditation that would let him sleep at night, and Wesley was always there. Wesley, the only person in the world who he opened up to completely, and who he was never afraid to delve into the mind of, until now. 

Charles was hurt. He was in pain, he was suffering, and Wesley still wouldn't let him in, wouldn't let Charles set his mind free in the only way that he ever could.  
The pain distracted him. The memories pierced his focus every second of every day, and he couldn't spare the concentration to maintain a loose barrier around his conscious mind.  
It wasn't just his own experiences that haunted him, but now it was everybody else's within a ten mile radius as well. And that included Marko, Sharon and Cain.

Sometimes he wished that he didn't have to care, that he didn't have to feel everything that the people that ruined his life did, or even that of those who made it worth living. And now Raven had been added to the mix, he didn't know what to do with himself. She had so much guilt, and a fare amount of anger, too. She worried about Charles, and couldn't help feeling uncomfortable in his presence. Charles had promised her never to read her mind, but he'd made that promise when he was very young, and still had a firm barrier around his and his brother's minds at the time, so it hadn't been any trouble then. But now he rarely had any filter at all, and he couldn't help what he saw. 

It was overwhelming, and loud, and it would never relent. He couldn't sleep, and he felt sick every time Marko laid eyes on him, seeing every perverted thing he saw. Wesley would only permit Charles to explore the thoughts at the very surface of his mind, and often he would shut off completely, telling him that it wasn't safe for him to see what he was thinking. Which was quite insulting, really, considering the fact that he had to listen to everybody else every minute of the day.

He definitely wished he didn't have to care; but he knew first hand what it could do to a person to close off completely. He had done it to himself in the years that he and Wesley blocked everything out, and he could see the result of a lifetime of it in Marko himself. Marko, who couldn't remember half of his childhood. And he knew why – at least partially. Marko had nightmares the death of his first wife. Marjorie died brutally and painfully, and the trauma of her slow and drawn-out death erased many years from Marko's life. He still had some memories of his childhood, but only those of his father's abuse and his hard years of being bullied at school. The rest of them were still there, but damaged or buried too deep to be retrieved. He was angry and disappointed in the world, and Charles fascinated him. He was his release. He could do whatever he wanted to Charles, and he'd always hold the power, for once. He could do whatever he wanted to him, and Charles would always come back with his snark, and his composed exterior. He was so like his father, whom he'd fancied for years before his death, yet he had even more of an edge, which was what allowed him to withstand whatever Marko could give him, until now.

Everything had changed in Charles life, and it was disorientating him. He didn't have control anymore. He certainly made it appear as though he was holding his own, but his world was, in truth, completely falling apart, and he didn't know what to do with that. Everything was fine until now. He needed to have control, over his own life, his own mind, his own body.

But he couldn't hold his own with so much noise in his head, and he couldn't block out the noise with so much on his mind. 

He was lost, and he didn't know how to climb back up to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a kind of a bridge chapter for the next chapter, which will be Something More Permanent Part 2, which is something i started in a previous chapter. I posted a screen shot of my notes for the last chapter on tumblr, which there's a link to in the beginning notes for the previous chapter, so if any one is interested in my research, they're there for you to look at -- it's kind of like a behind-the-scenes, if you will.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter. talking about charles' mutation is one of my favourite things.
> 
> my tumblr is gangster-whovian, comments and kudos make my day, and good luck with your exams.
> 
> thank y'all :)


	11. 'Something More Permanent: Part 2'

Charles straightened his shirt and sighed, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He did a quick sweep of the mansion to confirm that Wesley was still in the shower, and that Marko and Cain were still out. He knocked twice on his mother's door, and entered upon hearing her weak reply.

“Charles!”

“Hello, mother.”

“Oh, drop the posh, and come sit here.” She patted the bed beside her. “You're so like your father. Honestly, you two and keeping up appearances.”

Charles laughed and walked over to sit beside her. She pulled her hand out from under the thick layer of blankets and placed it over Charles'. “I'm sorry I couldn't do anything for your birthday. I was just too unwell.”

“Don't apologise.”

“Are you okay, honey?”

“I'm fine.”

She studied his expression for a moment. “Just barely, though. I can tell.”

Charles smiled sadly “You always could read me well.”

“Is your brother taking good care of you?”

“I'm not a child.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Wes is the same age.”

“But you were always the sensitive one.”

“I can't argue with that. He's a good brother, but you needn't worry about us. Worry about yourself. Why are you letting Marko do this to you, mother? I haven't seen you at meals for a long time, and I know very well that he isn't feeding you enough.”

Sharon reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear “Never mind that, honey.”

“I can't just ignore it, mother, because I _know_ why you're letting this happen. You're not doing us a service by leaving.” He paused to gauge her reaction. He gasped when she saw that she was crying. “Don't cry. Tears are the last thing we need.”

“I know he uses me to blackmail you, Charles. I can't let that continue.”

Charles swallowed around his own tight throat, and looked away. “Stop blaming yourself. He'll always find some way of getting what he wants.”

“I'm so sorry, honey. You warned me not to trust him, I should have listened to you. He just seemed so...”

“Charming?”

“I was desperate. I couldn't face your father's passing. I'm sorry. I just don't understand why he married me at all.”

“There are many reasons, but mostly he just wanted my father's life. He was always envious of the both of you.”

She was still crying, but she was furiously trying to wipe the tears away before Charles caught sight of them. “I don't even know my own family, anymore. I'm sure I don't know the half of what goes on in this house. I can't believe I did this to my own sons.”

“You didn't, Marko did.”

“Is- is he h-hurting you, Charles? He always did have something against you.”

“Shh. It's not forever. Let's not talk about him.”

“No, you're right. There's no use adding to it.” She smiled as she fiddled with the band around Charles' wrist. “How is Raven?”

“Worrying about me, as usual. But she's fine. Marko still doesn't even know she exists, and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“She always had a knack for keeping you two sane.”

“She still does.”

“She has the heart of a woman, that girl. Years ahead of her age.”

“In many ways, yes. She still has a lot of childish faith in the world, but she will learn.”

“I hope she doesn't. The evils of this world can break a kind soul.”

Charles felt a pang of guilt for having exposed her to so much evil already.

“You, however – you have the strength that your father had.” She said, with an odd mixture of a frown and a strained smile.

“It's served me well, but I'm afraid I didn't build the physical strength he prided himself in.”

“That's what Wesley's for.”

Charles laughed “He's not a thug.”

“No, he's a protector. I'm convinced that your selfless attitude would have cost you everything by now without him to remind you of your own worth.”

“Perhaps you're right about that.”

“You don't trust easily, but you've never had any trouble trusting him.”

“I know him better than anyone.”

“That's certainly true. Sometimes it seemed like I'd never really get through to that boy. So stubborn and... conservative.”

Charles chuckled “Most people call me the conservative one.”

“Only the people that don't know you. People have always made assumptions about you two, I could never figure out why.”

“We're twins. Sometimes it's hard to see past that fact, and actually approach us like any other human being.”

“Of course, you would know.”

“Hmm. Another assumption is that I know everything. I do generally try to stay out of other peoples' business, you know. I don't know what everybody is thinking every second of the day.”

“Yes, you do.”

“How do you know?”

“You just can't admit to it. I know my own son, he doesn't pride himself in knowing his fellow man's every secret.”

“That was third person. I'm still in the room.”

She covered her mouth and giggled “There's your father in that line.”

Charles shrugged “He liked to be shown a certain respect.”

Her smile faded and she stared ahead, as if watching a scene play out before her. “That he did, but in all the wrong places, I'm afraid.”

“I fear he and I have that in common.” He reflected bitterly on all the horrible things he'd allowed Marko to do to him to protect his family. He never thought of it as a lack of self-respect until now.  


She reached for his hand again, and stroked the back of it with her thumb. “So do I. Do try to take good care of yourself, will you?”

“Stop talking like you won't be here to ensure it.”

“Do you promise?”

“I can promise that my brother will, but I'm not sure I'd be able to keep that promise myself.”

She sighed. “I guess you're right. Always putting yourself before others. I still can't decide if that makes you a good man or a fool.”

“Should I be offended?”

“No, my love. We all have our faults. You and your brother really are a packaged deal, aren't you?”

“I hope not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We can't be attached at the hip forever.”

“I don't think you have a choice.”

“Neither do I, but there's hope for all of us.”

“Sometimes I think I understand every word you speak, and sometimes I'm left wondering if I understand you at all. What are you hiding from me, sweetheart?”

Charles looked down at her, so that she'd take the full meaning of his words “Nothing you ought to worry about, and nothing you can do anything to help. Take my word for it?”

“You're a troubled one, but yes, I believe you. There's only so much a mother can do.”

“I love you.”

“I know. You and your brother are honestly the only two people in this world that I am sure that is true for.”

Charles was shocked to find that he was crying. He supposed he hadn't been paying much attention at all to his own composure. “I don't suppose you don't have long.”

“No longer than a day, I think.”

Charles couldn't help the sobs, now. “Please don't leave. You and Wes are all that's left.”

“You have Raven. I will die peacefully in the knowledge that you have her light in your life. You hold on to her with everything you have, okay?”

“Of course.”

“May I speak to Wesley before Kurt comes home?”

“I will see to it.”

“Charles, darling. You don't have to keep your composure with me. Come here.” She spread her arms, and Charles swung his legs up onto the bed to lie beside her, her arm supporting her neck. She reached around and ran her fingers through his hair. She kissed the top of his head. “You will be fine, won't you?”

“Always.”

“I love you more than ever, and that won't change. I will be happier when I'm gone.”

Charles whined and clutched onto her sweater “Father didn't believe.”

“He didn't have to. I'll be better off, you just have to trust me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Mum.”

She hummed. “Good.” She ran her fingers through his hair a last time, and unfurled his finger from her sweater, handing him a cloth to dry his eyes. “Chin up. Go fetch your brother.”

“He's waiting outside.”

She smiled. “My beautiful boy, listen carefully. I've never known anybody as passionate as you." Her voice was firm, despite how weak she actually seemed. Her mouth was set like she was satisfied with these words being the last she would speak to her son. "Don't let anything take that from you, not even my passing.”

Charles bit his lip, and looked away. He had no response to that. “I'll go get Wes.” He took her hand briefly one more time, and then reluctantly stood up and stepped outside. Wesley was sitting a little ways down the hall, his hair still wet from the shower and an exhausted expression on his face. He walked over to him, and Wesley stood up to meet him half way. 

“You've been crying.”

Charles walked into his arms, and tucked his head into his brother's shoulder. “She doesn't have long.” He whispered.

“Estimation?”

“About an hour. She says she has longer, but she's lying. Don't waist any time. Go have a moment with her, I'll be out here.”

“I'll come and get you when she wants you.”

“Okay.”

 

 

Charles waited outside for almost an hour, but it felt like no time at all. He barely moved an inch the whole time. He felt so numb, like he didn't have anything left to give. He supposed that wouldn't last long, but he couldn't help but think that this numbness was worse than the pain.

He was honestly hoping she'd go before Marko got back, and he didn't know if that was wrong of him or not. He didn't want her to have to die with him under the same roof. She didn't deserve it.

_ 'Charles? You there? You had better come quickly, I think she's just barely holding on.' _

Charles didn't reply, but just stood up carefully and walked over to the door. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes, preparing himself, and then walked in, training his eyes on her thin form. Wesley was holding her hand and looking determinedly out the window, clearly trying not to lose it. Charles walked over to Wesley first, blocking his view of the window. He took Wesley's jaw and tilted his head up, forcing him to look him in the eye. “It's okay, Wesley.”

He hated to see his brother cry. Wesley hardly ever let himself cry, and that just seemed to make it all the more painful when it did. He forced himself to watch his brother fight to not let his lips turn down at the side, and finally shed a few tears, then smiled down at him and turned to his mother.

“Can I take the pain away for you, Mum?”

“You are just by being here.”

“Don't give me that.” He sat down beside her shoulder and cradled her head in his hands, breathing deeply and closing his eyes, drew the pain away, and then opened them again to smile down at her. “Better?”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Charles hummed and then looked back up into Wesley's eyes, silently asking his permission. Wesley chewed on his bottom lip and nodded just barely, and then trained his eyes back on his mother.

Charles followed his lead, looking back down into Sharon's eyes. “Are you ready?”

She smiled at him. Really smiled, like she was the happiest woman alive, and then nodded to Wesley, as if to reassure him more than Charles that everything would be okay.

Charles readjusted so that he was crouched at her hip, and then leant down to kiss her forehead. He scrunched his eyes shut and then sat back up, and watched her draw her last breath.

He could feel Wesley shuffle up behind him, and lean in next to his ear “Did you... Is she...”

“Yes.” His voice crackled, and he tried to clear it. “K- Marko is outside.” He sniffed and brushed his tears away, and then handed Wesley the cloth. “I'm so sorry, Wes, but we have to go.”

 

 

 

* * *

“ _Sharon Xavier – and I use my father's name in his honour – was a somewhat changeable woman. One moment she'd seem so young and naïve, and the next, she'd have the unreserved bearings of a woman – in every sense of the word. That was part of her beauty, part of her charm that was hard to take for granted. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and was the one person with the power to remind my father to do the same, when he needed the chance to set his pride aside and be human. I know, without a doubt, that she loved me and my brother dearly, and that we both loved her back, and that's all that should matter, in the end. Her love and devotion to us won't ever fade._

“ _In her final words, which I won't quote directly, she assured us that her death was not untimely, and that she'd be happier in parting this world. Although I find it hard to believe her, she asked that I trust that she knew it was time, and Wesley has faith enough to be sure that she, at least, believed every word she spoke._

“ _The truth is, her death_ was _untimely, as was my father's before her, and – I wish to be entirely honest with you – I cannot say in full confidence that she lived a full life._

“ _My only reassurance is that, although she didn't live to a great age, she lived long enough to know and love our father, and to see me and my brother through to our seventeenth birthday._

“ _She won't ever see us both become men – a truth that I find extremely hard to bear – but she knew us. She knew all of us and – I'm not religious – but I am not so blind that I cannot see that that primary human connection is what defines humanity, and is an experience that, however short lived, is what really makes living worthwhile. She knew love, and she had family. And so I ask that, from this day forth, you never forget her, but that you also put your regrets behind you, and reflect upon her memory with fondness only, and in the comfort of knowing that any wrong that came to her was merely the product of the gift of life, which she was so lucky to have been given, and to have had the opportunity to pass on to me and my brother.”_

– _Charles Francis Xavier in July of '54_

 

The funeral was huge. Too big, in Charles' private opinion, and was held in a church that quickly filled with self-important rich people that his mother had met perhaps only once in her lifetime, and sad old businessmen that Marko thought it would be appropriate to invite, mostly just to boast the fact that he knew so many rich people. It was held the Sunday after she died, and Marko gave some sickening speech about how brave she was and how much _he'd_ suffered these past few years, and somehow everybody fell for it. Wesley insisted that he'd fuck everything up if he gave a speech, so he helped Charles write it and then just stood beside him at the stand while Charles gave it on behalf of both of them. Wesley will never understand how Charles kept his voice clear for the entire duration.

The funeral wasn't how Charles pictured it at all, and that fact only served to remind him that the whole world _didn't_ stop when one of the few connections to his old life died, that a funeral was nothing more than a gathering of snobs who mostly didn't give a shit whether she lived or died – in this case at least – and that her passing really only truly affected such a small number of people on this planet. Too few, he realised. She did only have the two of them, really.

They made sure that they didn't mention Marko once in the speech, preferring not to dirty it with his name even though they knew he wouldn't appreciate it one bit. It was silently received by anybody who would listen, and ended on a particularly stagnant note given that the two of them had practically just insulted Marko completely shamelessly, but the alternative was not an option; Charles simply refused to speak his name in church, and certainly not over his mother's body. She was never a Marko, despite what any piece of paper said. No, she would always be a Xavier. 

Raven came. She sat at one of the back benches as herself. Well, the next closest thing, at least. She kept her head down so as not to be noticed, but wasn't above shedding a few tears. Sharon had been so good to her, and she couldn't bear the thought of what this must have done to the boys.

But, in all honesty, she was relieved. The woman had suffered enough, and she knew that it meant Charles would have one less person in his life to sacrifice himself over.

The three of them stayed back at the grave long after even Marko had left. They were alone in the graveyard, and Raven transformed into her true self for the occasion, and stood silently behind Charles and Wesley for at least an hour before she left, leaving them alone.

They didn't speak a word, just sat there in each other's company for the entire afternoon. Wesley finally, painstakingly took all of his mind-barriers down, but Charles didn't dare read his mind. Just the knowledge that he'd finally let go of that disconnection between them was enough for the moment, but he didn't want to fully understand his brother's exact reasoning for it yet.

They both took their own advice and carefully let go of all of their regrets, including whatever they couldn't stop Marko from doing to her. They would never leave their memories, but from now on they simply wouldn't let themselves dwell on them – they would only serve to soil her memory.

The funeral was really the first time that Charles or Wesley spoke a great deal to anybody. Until now, they'd only spoken selectively to each other and perhaps raven, and never out loud.

Funerals really _were_ for the living. It was like the event finally snapped something inside them, made them face their mother's death and accept it. They needed to move on, to break out of this weird spell they'd been under the past few days.

And, like it or not, they had to stop hiding. Charles guessed that this was why Wesley finally knocked his barriers down, and it was surely the only thing that would allow the twins to ever speak a word again.

They both hated funerals with a passion, but they could also finally see their value. A new chapter had started, and with it came a new-found strength in both of them. They both realised that this couldn't continue – they couldn't keep living like this. They were going to have to face Marko. They weren't psychically linked at the time, but somehow they both made the decision at the same time to not let that man continue to destroy their lives – or Cain's for that matter. Even if it meant a few sacrifices along the way, that man had to be stopped.

 

55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I really am, okay? but she really had to go... I've been saying she's 'nearly gone' for so long and I can't be nice to you forever, and I just didn't see how things could get any better without her gone. and yes, Charles had to be the one to help her move on. don't ask me why that is, it just felt right, even if it does technically make him a murderer...? I wanted him to be the one to help her let go, and i wanted it to happen when Marko and Cain were nowhere near them... because that would just be an unnecessary pile of shit hanging over them.
> 
> yeah... sorry, but I sort of maybe took the advice of pretty much every evil writer ever and made her death more painful by making you get to know her a little first... I'm afraid I really had to invent her character a bit, and, from what I can see, she was a bit more snobby than I've written her, but I can't actually read comics (for some reason I can't split my brain like that) so all I could read about her character was from marvel comic databases, which are honestly pretty cold, mostly. I don't trust the movieverse on bit, and even that only has 'red dress' and 'doesn't give Charles hot chocolates' (????????) so it's not very helpful. but hey, it's a crossover, and kind of an AU since Marko apparently worships Charles in the comics, so I do what I want... right?
> 
> HAHAHAHAHA notice he never calls her 'Mum' until she's about to die? Well, you do now. Again, I haven't read the comics, so I don't know but, in my head, the only time he calls her that is when he's quite young and on the day of her passing. You're welcome for that extra bit of misery. Yes, the title and flash-back to the earlier chapter was necessary, even if it was a little bit heartless of me. But really, I think that part of the reason why Marko starved her was to break Charles... YAY. HAPPINESS.  
> But really, it's not that bad, is it? You didn't really get to know my version of Sharon, much. I don't kill off protagonists, don't worry. At least, I don't in fanfics... So yeah you're meant to feel a bit of a pang, but this wasn't really meant to affect you too much... sorry if it did????
> 
> Anyway I'll shut up now. things will get better. Maybe. I'm sorry. Y'all go and sleep it off or some shit... whatever coping mechanism you have idk. call it therapeutic and walk it off.
> 
> luv ya
> 
> comments make my day
> 
> I'll send you mental kisses if you subscribe or leave kudos. it's all love
> 
> xxx ;)
> 
> PS. God chapter's are churning out fast these past few days. Here I am to BOMBARD YOU WITH EMOTIONS all in the space of a week... yeah if you're worried about me I'm actually a really positive, tiny little squeaky bundle of joy irl. it's really just my fics that are so miserable. sometimes I think about the stuff I write and go holy crap man that's actual rape. Cutesie little Tali-Bubbles writes about rape. W.T.F. ????? sorry I said I'd shut up.
> 
> my tumblr is gangster-whovian  
> check it out for way too many photoshoots of James Mcavoy


	12. 'A-Tisket, A-Tasket'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm has just been introduced, as if we don't have enough pain already... :D  
> if it's a trigger for you, don't risk it

The only people Charles can't understand are the people who can't understand themselves... which is everybody. But, of course, some people are more self-aware than others. Cain was probably the hardest to understand, of all the people in his life.

He supposed that the boy couldn't understand his own motives, because he's spent so much of his life following his father, hoping against hope that he'd stay in his good books and keep out of trouble. Which didn't really work, but Charles couldn't argue that things would have been any better if he'd rebelled.

But Cain was finally starting to recognise just who his father was. He was just approaching manhood, or as close as the kid would ever get to it, and he was seeing with his own eyes what his father was capable of. He was also reaching that difficult, but vital age at which he began to learn to think for himself, and to form his own opinion independently. If Charles was honest, he'd always doubted the idiot would ever reach this stage of development in the first place but, despite all appearances, he rather liked being wrong every now and then.

But in any case, the boy had reached a turning point in his previously single-minded journey to manhood; he witnessed the death of a women at his father's hands – well, as closely as he could, having never actually seen the woman in her last moments, but that's beside the point.

The point is, that he was never a bad person. Not really. Charles understood that and, although he couldn't help hating him, he never really believed that the boy was entirely like his father. He certainly feared that he would _become_ like Marko, with the help of years of abuse, but he'd seen the world through the eyes of his step brother, and it was a bleak place, but there was no strong desire in him to seek power over others, unlike his father.

But that was the extent of his understanding. He still couldn't fathom why he did half the things he did.

Charles never understood self-mutilation. It was something he saw every day, all around him, but there was likely no real answer as to why people commit it. He would never admit it, but he'd come close to it himself, over the years. That didn't mean he understood why he'd ever want to do it.

It had never really been an issue in the Xavier household, and it wasn't until now that he witnessed it under its roof with Marko in charge of it, either.

He supposed he could partially understand why the boy did it. He hated himself, plain and simple. But it wasn't plain, and it wasn't simple. He was finally becoming aware of what sort of person he'd become; he was waking up to what his father had made him. He hated it. He hated this disgusting excuse for a human being that glared back at him from every polished surface. And so he punished it – but how this form of self-punishment would do right by anybody was beyond even Cain himself.

Charles had to witness it every night and, although it surprised him, he couldn't bring himself to ignore it. Or did it surprise him, really? How could he not be uncomfortable with another human being dragging a knife through his skin every night. It was wrong. It was 'ungodly', as his mother would have said. And by that he didn't mean Cain himself, but the act. It was the act that was poisoning his step-brother's mind, making him addicted to the pain and the release that came with it.

It was sick, and Charles couldn't stand it, no matter who it was happening to.

The trouble was, there wasn't really much he could do about it.

Actually, he realised, that's a lie. There were many things he could do about it, he just didn't have the confidence. 

And there was the question of whether or not he should tell Wesley. It was nobody's business but Cain's, really, but it didn't look as though he'd stop on his own any time soon, and Charles was still having a hard time figuring out what to do about Marko.

There was just so much on his mind, and no outlet anymore. 

What he really needed was to talk to Wesley. Well, talk among other things. Many other things. He was tired of the walls between them and, now that Wesley had taken most of them down, he didn't know what was stopping him from reaching out. Well, that was a lie, too, but it was easier if he could convince himself of that; give himself some more time to pluck up the courage.

But sharing each other's thoughts wasn't all he longed for. Lately, Wesley had been treating him like glass. Ever since the night before their birthday, he'd skirted around him as if he might scare him off, or cause a panic. Charles couldn't deny that it was possible, but honestly all he wanted was his brother back.

Damn it, he was such a coward. He couldn't bring himself to do much about anything anymore. The only person he didn't worry about losing was Marko, and therefore he was the only person that Charles could find it in himself to contradict, even if he was the worst choice of enemy Charles could have come up with.

But that wouldn't last. He wouldn't let it. He couldn't let things fall apart even further. Sharon's passing was the worst thing to happen to them since she married Marko, and he knew more than anyone that the only chance he had of preserving everyone's sanity was to be rid of this separation between the lot of them – and that included Raven, but she's a whole other story, one that could be saved for later.

So, on one surprisingly wet day, considering the time of year, he put aside the time to cover whatever bruises coloured his face and arms, donned something that would hopefully make him feel a little less unsure of himself, and padded down the hall to knock on his brother's door.

“What?” Wesley's tired voice called out.

“It's Charles. May I come in?”

“What for?”

Charles sighed and ran his thumb along his brow, scrunched his eyes shut in frustration and opened his mouth again to demand entrance but, before he could get a word out, Wesley opened the door ajar and peeped out of the crack, reeking of alcohol and looking more tired than Charles had ever seen him.

“Wes.”

“Charles.”

“You look awful.”

“Remind me again why I'm letting you in?” He said, just as he opened the door wide enough for Charles to pass through.

“Because I need to talk to you."

Wesley groaned. “Charles. I'm tired. Please just leave me be.”

Charles just ignored him and walked past him to sit on one of the lounge chairs beside the chess table. “We don't have to talk right away.”

Wesley threw himself onto his bed and thrusted his hand in the air, which was clutching an almost empty bottle of very expensive scotch, in offering.

“No, thank you, Wesley.”

“Oh, come on, I'd love to see you drunk. Have I seen you drunk before?”

“Yes, but I'm rather good at hiding it.”

“Lord, if I ever develop an ego, you'll not be the man I go to to weather it.”

“You do have an ego, Wesley. Everybody does, yours just isn't a very bold one.”

“Whatever, fancy pants. You gonna get pissed or are you so determined to sit there and gaze upon me with all your straight posture and posh accent and whatever other stupid show you rely on to keep your composure?”

Charles huffed and strutted over to snatch the bottle out of his brother's hand.

“I knew you wouldn't hold off for long.”

“I beg your pardon, but I _have_ managed to 'hold off' for a good week by now. Wouldn't you say that's somewhat of an achievement?”

“By my standards, maybe.”

“You're a disgrace to me sometimes. You know that?”

“Blah blah family disappointment blah.”

“No, that would be me.”

“T'wasn't when dad was alive.”

“Well, he isn't.”

“You know, silence is a beautiful thing – something I don't think we appreciate enough.”

Charles obediently downed the rest of the scotch and shut his mouth, strutting over to the bookshelf and picking up some sort of compilation of nursery rhymes he vaguely remembers from when they were little.

Wesley sighed “You won't be able to read that, in a minute.”

“That's the point.”

“I don't like riddles, buddy.”

“It's how I measure my sobriety.”

Wesley made an exaggerated snorting sound “You're so boring.”

“No, I'm cautious.”

“Of what?”

“Of becoming like Marko, if you must know.”

“Whatever. Shut up.”

Charles huffed his disapproval and attempted to read the nonsense scrawled across the first page. Honestly, he could never understand why these writers were so highly respected. It was clear they were all on some form of acid, or whatever it was people took now days to forget about the shithole they live in.

Well, that was a bleak thought. Perhaps he wasn't a happy drunk. It'd been so long he couldn't really remember.

“ _A-tisket a-tasket_

    _A green and yellow basket_
    _I wrote a letter to my love_
    _And on the way I dropped it,_
    _I dropped it,_
    _I dropped it,_
    _And on the way I dropped it._
    _A little boy he picked it up and put it in his pocket.”_
    
    _What in the ever loving-_
    
     “Charles?”
    
    “Hmm?”
    
    “Do you ever wonder why we're here?”
    
    “Not really.”
    
    “No? I doubt that.”
    
    “It honestly doesn't matter, Wesley. The fact is, we are.”
    
    “But why? Why are we here? And why does it have to be shit?”
    
    “It doesn't have to be shit.”
    
    Wesley shrugged “Looks like it to me.”
    
    “I thought you believed.”
    
    “I do. Doesn't explain why He put us here.”
    
    “Well, in a way, it does. Have you actually read The Bible?”
    
    “Ugh. Yeah, some of it.”
    
    “Well, then you know why we're here.”
    
    “But you don't believe.”
    
    “One man's truth is not necessarily another's.”
    
    “Cut the crap. There's only one truth.”
    
    “How can you be sure?”
    
    “'Cos someone's opinion isn't the truth.”
    
    “I don't agree.”
    
    “No?”
    
    “No. I witness many arguments between two or more people every day and, while people often do lie, sometimes two people will remember the same moment very differently, and we can never say which memory is true or false, because the moment has passed, and a man's judgement counts for naught anyway.”
    
    “You just contradicted yourself.”
    
    “Let me rephrase; a third party's biased opinion means nothing to he first or second party.”
    
    “Doesn't have to be biased.”
    
    “It nearly always is, in my experience.”
    
    “Blah blah, whatever. Point is, I don't know why we're here and it bothers me.”
    
    “Do you need to know?”
    
    “If there's no purpose, then why don't I just end it?”
    
    Charles sighed and slumped his shoulders. “I don't know, Wesley. Put it this way: if you do end it, you'll leave your mark on others, and pain is a real experience whether we're here for a reason or not.”
    
    “Yeah, I think I'm beginning to grasp that.”
    
    “Alcohol makes you grumpy.”
    
    “Uh-huh. Tell somebody who cares.”
    
    Charles didn't have an answer to that, so he returned his attention to the old book to wait for Wesley to ask him what he came here for.
    
    “ _I lost my supper, last night,_
    _And the night before,_
    _And if I do this night,_
    _I never will no more._
    _I sent a letter to my love,_
    _I carried water in my glove,_
    _And by the way I dropped it, I did so, I did so:_
    _I had a little dog that said bow-wow!_
    _I had a little cat that said meow-meow!_
    _Shan't bite you, shan't bite you,_
    _Shall bite you._
    _I dropt it, I dropt it,_
    _And by the way I lost it”_
    
    
     “What did you want, again?” Wesley slurred, snapping Charles out of the rhyme's confused imagery.
    
    “I never had the chance to say in the first place.”
    
    “Irrelevant. What did you want?”
    
    “To talk.”
    
    “Yes, I got that part. What about?”
    
    “A lot.”
    
    “Well, get on with it.”
    
    Charles walked around his brothers bed and stood beside it, hands on his hips, looking down at his brother. “Sit up.”
    
    “No.”
    
    “Now.”
    
    “No.”
    
    “NOW.”
    
    “Fine, Mum.”
    
    Charles smacked him over the head, glaring at him. “Watch your mouth.”
    
    “Sorry. Wasn't intentional.”
    
    “I don't care. You have to sober up enough to think about your own damn words before they bring down the government.”
    
    Wesley finally sat up and scowled at his brother. “They won't bring down the government.”
    
    “It's an expression. God, you're drunk. How much was in this bottle when you started?”
    
    “Will you hit me again if I answer that?”
    
    “I will if you don't.”
    
    “Honestly, I can't remember. Maybe it was unopened.”
    
    Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. “Shower.”
    
    “Ugh. Really?”
    
    “Yes, really. Go clean that stench of. And splash your face with cold water.”
    
    “Why do you get to tell me what to do? And don't start with that however-many-minutes older crap!”
    
    “Nineteen. I get to tell you what to do because you're hopeless at looking after yourself.”
    
    “You're no better.”
    
    “I'm bad at stopping _other people_ treating me badly, but that's a different thing. Go wash. I'll be out here.
    
    “Yeah, your snark'll be the death of you, all right.”
    
    “Piss off.”
    
    “Watch your gob, strapping chap!”  
  

    Charles giggled “Oh God. Just get out of my sight.”
    
    “Am I that ugly?”
    
    “You're drunk. Get in the goddamn shower or I'll drag you.”
    
    Wesley scowled and then slammed the en-suite door behind him.
    
    “PRICK!” Charles shouted through the door.
    
    “ASSHOLE.”
    
    “WHAT A COMBINATION!” Charles heard his brother splutter and cough, and laughed just loud enough for him to hear.
    
    
    
    
    “You are _such_ and asshole.” Wesley dragged his feet over to the bed and sat beside Charles.
    
    “We've established that. Spell 'parchment' for me?”
    
    “Um... p-a-r-c-h-m-e-n-t?”
    
    “Ah, the merits of a hot shower.”
    
    “What did you want to talk to me about?”
    
    “Firstly, I'd like you to stop treating me like blown glass.”
    
    “What the hell is blown glass?”
    
    “It's how baubles are made.”
    
    “Uh... I don't treat you like a bauble?”
    
    “God, you're simple sometimes. I'm asking you to stop expecting me to fall apart.”
    
    “I don't.”
    
    Charles gripped his brother's shoulder and swung himself around to straddle his lap, and then pushed him backwards to lie on the bed, bent over him and kissed him. Wesley squirmed and pushed his brother gently, so he'd pull away.
    
    “Charles?!”
    
    Charles stared into his brother's eyes and raised one eyebrow. “See? Blown glass. I'm fine, Wes.”
    
    Wesley gulped “I just didn't figure you'd want...”
    
    “I don't, but Marko hasn't changed me completely. I trust you more than anybody else, you don't have to tread so carefully”
    
    “I... are you sure?”
    
    “Are you?”
    
    “All fine this end.”
    
    “Well, then, yes. I'm sure.”
    
    “I just... don't want to hurt you.”
    
    “Do you honestly think I would let you take it too far?” Charles laughed “I would never do that to you, Wes. You could never live with yourself.”
    
    “You have one thing right.”
    
    Charles nodded and looked away, suddenly fascinated by the crease in the duvet beside his brother's head. “Just one thing...”
    
    “Yes?”
    
    “Don't ever ask me to say your name.”
    
    Wesley swallowed and brought his hands up to run them through Charles' hair. “Okay.”
    
    Charles scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head. “Try not to think about it?”
    
    “Not so easy.”
    
    Charles cleared his throat and rolled over to lie beside his brother. He took his hand and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe.
    
    “This will sound strange but... I was more worried about what Raven could hear, than what he would do to me. I sort of just... gave up? If it meant I could shut him up.”
    
    “Do you regret that?”
    
    “No.”
    
    “You should.”
    
    “I know.” Charles sighed and tried to relax into the mattress. “I'm not perfect.”
    
    “That's debatable.”
    
    “Not really. I appreciate the sentiment, though.”
    
    Wesley chuckled and released Charles' hand so he could prop himself on his side with it. “Nobody's perfect, right?”
    
    “So far.”
    
    “I reckon that's subjective.”
    
    Charles nodded and opened his eyes, staring up at his brother's uncertain expression. “Relax, Wesley. There's enough angst in this house without you worrying about your every move.” Charles slid his brother's shirt up his waist and placed his hand on his hip. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes again. He exhaled heavily, content to just listen to the rain fall on the roof for a while and study his Wesley's tired expression as he traced patterns on his skin.
    
    “We have to do something, Wesley.”
    
    “You gonna start this now? Way to shit on the moment, man. I'm already tired enough.”
    
    “God, your language is vulgar.”
    
    “'I should wash your mouth out with soup', he says, in his strange I'm-trying-to-come-off-all-proper dialect.”
    
    “Dork.”
    
    “I honestly don't think you're in a good position to call me that.” Wesley snorted softly at his on quip and let his eyes flutter closed. “So what do you suggest we do about it?”
    
    “I'm working on that.”
    
    “Well, then why are we discussing this now.”
    
    “Because it really can't wait for me to come up with some brilliant plan.”
    
    “What's made you finally realise that?”
    
    “Cain. He's... not fairing well.”
    
    “You're not seriously worried about _Cain_ , of all people?” Wesley raised an eyebrows, but couldn't find the energy to prise his eyes open.
    
    “Look, I know you hate him, and honestly, so do I, but we both know I can't just watch someone suffer and I really should have tried to do something a long time ago.”
    
    “And how is he suffering any more than usual?”
    
    Charles hesitated, “It's not really my place-”
    
    “Don't give me that crap-” He cut himself off mid-sentence, “What's happened?”
    
    “He's harming himself, alright?" Charles groaned and raked his hands through his hair, "Happy?”
    
    “'Happy' isn't the word I'd use. But this is nothing new, Charles. Even just from the glimpses I used to catch when we were closely linked, I could see that half the town has the same problem.”
    
    “Not half the town, don't exaggerate. And this is happening _here_ , only a few rooms away. I can't sleep with him mutilating himself in the next room.”
    
    “Again, what do you think we can do about it?”
    
    Charles bit his lip and sighed, “I have one idea, but I'm not sure you'll like it.”
    
    Wesley hummed softly in question.
    
    “I might be able to find a way to control Marko's mind, and plant a false memory so that he remembers something other than what happened. It's the only way I can think of taking any power over him.”
    
    “Why don't you do it, then?”
    
    “Because I'm not sure that it's even possible, and if I make one mistake, we're in trouble.”
    
    “So... What now?”
    
    “You're not going to like this. Remember when my psychic ability first manifested, and I had no clue how to utilise it, so you helped me learn by being a sort of test subject?”
    
    Wesley's eyes opened slowly, and he sighed, “Now you're making me sound like a lab rat. I know where you're going with this, Charles. Would it really be safe for you to try something you don't understand? You could wipe my memory, or give me some sort of brain damage.”
    
    “I'd start out carefully, and just do really simple things. I'm not trying to force you into anything, but this is really the only hope we have.”
    
    “I wouldn't say that,” His tone was deadly, and Charles could see something flat in his eyes as he said it.
    
    “That sounds foreboding.”
    
    “I wonder why?”
    
    Charles buried his face in the duvet, “I just don't have any energy anymore,” He groaned.
    
    “Hmm, today's little stunt proves otherwise.”
    
    Charles slapped him on the shoulder, “You're not funny.”
    
    “Excuse you, I'm hilarious.”
    
    “Keep telling yourself that, love.”
    
    Wesley huffed a giddy laugh and smirked.
    
    “What?” Charles said, confused.
    
    “I guess it's nice not to feel miserable, for once.”
    
    “Life an soul.”
    
    “Hey, that was positive!”
    
    “Just barely.”
    
    “You're no better.”
    
    “I... can't deny that.”
    
    Wesley chewed on his lip, and then stretched out and yawned, “Well, Marko's going out tomorrow. I'm guessing when he gets back he'll be pissed, in every sense of the word. We'll try and figure this out in the morning, before he gets back.”
    
    Charles beamed, “Thank you, Wesley.”

 

16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took sooooooo long to put this chapter together! i got really stuck writing it, and there are a few earlier versions that really didn't feel right. this one still feels a bit off, and maybe a little short. perhapse i'll come back and edit it later, but for now i need to move onto the next chapter, because i have the whole next few chapters made up in my head, after actually watching x-men and getting a whole bunch of ideas
> 
> a long time ago (like 6 months ago) i started writing a pietro/charles fic (cos there really aren't enough of those in the world) and, although i think i need to rewrite a lot of it bc there are a lot of plotholes and badly written sections, i could get around to posting that should any of you think it worth reading.
> 
> i also much more recently just barely started writing a pietro/omc fic, so comment if you think that's a good idea.
> 
> once again, i can post a screen shot of all the research i did for the latest chapter if any of you are interested.
> 
> honestly, all it would take is one comment asking for any of the three and i'll post it.
> 
> be advised that my tumblr has been changed to sense8senseless  
> i'm always happy to talk, on my tumblr or on here, so leave comments or message me to completely make my day :)

**Author's Note:**

> i'll to post new chapters regularly but if you want the story to ever get finished i might need a bit of support because if i don't get enough people interested i often just leave fics mid-story.
> 
> if anybody has any editing/proof reading i need to take a look at then just comment and let me know.
> 
> \--- update 20/05/15
> 
> sorry guys, i promised i'd get the next chapter in quickly but i'm having a bad mental health month so it might be a while. the plus side is that i'll possibly get very emotional once i've pulled through and get a lot of really good writing out of it :) at least that's how it usually works.
> 
> so yeah sorry for the delay


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